Paul Boddie's Free Software-related blog

The experiments covered by my recent articles about filesystems and L4Re managed to lead me along another path in the past few weeks. I had defined a mechanism for providing access to files in a filesystem via a programming interface employing interprocess communication within the L4Re system. In doing so, I had defined calls or operations that would read from and write to a file, observing that some kind of “memory-mapped” file support might also be possible. At the time, I had no clear idea of how this would actually be made to work, however.

As can often be the case, once some kind of intellectual challenge emerges, it can become almost impossible to resist the urge to consider it and to formulate some kind of solution. Consequently, I started digging deeper into a number of things: dataspaces, pagers, page faults, and the communication that happens within L4Re via the kernel to support all of these things.

Dataspaces and Memory

Because the L4Re developers have put a lot of effort into making a system where one can compile a fairly portable program and probably expect it to work, matters like the allocation of memory within programs, the use of functions like malloc, and other things we take for granted need no special consideration in the context of describing general development for an L4Re-based system. In principle, if our program wants more memory for its own use, then the use of things like malloc will probably suffice. It is where we have other requirements that some of the L4Re abstractions become interesting.

In my previous efforts to support MIPS-based systems, these other requirements have included the need to access memory with a fixed and known location so that the hardware can be told about it, thus supporting things like framebuffers that retain stored data for presentation on a display device. But perhaps most commonly in a system like L4Re, it is the need to share memory between processes or tasks that causes us to look beyond traditional memory allocation techniques at what L4Re has to offer.

Indeed, the filesystem work so far employs what are known as dataspaces to allow filesystem servers and client applications to exchange larger quantities of information conveniently via shared buffers. First, the client requests a dataspace representing a region of memory. It then associates it with an address so that it may access the memory. Then, the client shares this with the server by sending it a reference to the dataspace (known as a capability) in a message.

Opening a file using shared memory containing file information

The kernel, in propagating the message and the capability, makes the dataspace available to the server so that both the client and the server may access the memory associated with the dataspace and that these accesses will just work without any further effort. At this level of sophistication we can get away with thinking of dataspaces as being blocks of memory that can be plugged into tasks. Upon obtaining access to such a block, reads and writes (or loads and stores) to addresses in the block will ultimately touch real memory locations.

Even in this simple scheme, there will be some address translation going on because each task has its own way of arranging its view of memory: its virtual address space. The virtual memory addresses used by a task may very well be different from the physical memory addresses indicating the actual memory locations involved in accesses.

An illustration of virtual memory corresponding to physical memory

Such address translation is at the heart of operating systems like those supported by the L4 family of microkernels. But the system will make sure that when a task tries to access a virtual address available to it, the access will be translated to a physical address and supported by some memory location.

Mapping and Paging

With some knowledge of the underlying hardware architecture, we can say that each task will need support from the kernel and the hardware to be able to treat its virtual address space as a way of accessing real memory locations. In my experiments with simple payloads to run on MIPS-based hardware, it was sufficient to define very simple tables that recorded correspondences between virtual and physical addresses. Processes or tasks would access memory addresses, and where the need arose to look up such a virtual address, the table would be consulted and the hardware configured to map the virtual address to a physical address.

Naturally, proper operating systems go much further than this, and systems built on L4 technologies go as far as to expose the mechanisms for normal programs to interact with. Instead of all decisions about how memory is mapped for each task being taken in the kernel, with the kernel being equipped with all the necessary policy and information, such decisions are delegated to entities known as pagers.

When a task needs an address translated, the kernel pushes the translation activity over to the designated pager for a decision to be made. And the event that demands an address translation is known as a page fault since it occurs when a task accesses a memory page that is not yet supported by a mapping to physical memory. Pagers are therefore present to receive page fault notifications and to respond in a way that causes the kernel to perform the necessary privileged actions to configure the hardware, this being one of the few responsibilities of the kernel.

The role of a pager in managing access to the contents of a dataspace

Treating a dataspace as an abstraction for memory accessed by a task or application, the designated pager for the dataspace acts as a dataspace manager, ensuring that memory accesses within the dataspace can be satisfied. If an access causes a page fault, the pager must act to provide a mapping for the accessed page, leaving the application mostly oblivious to the work going on to present the dataspace and its memory as a continuously present resource.

An Aside

It is rather interesting to consider the act of delegation in the context of processor architecture. It would seem to be fairly common that the memory management units provided by various architectures feature built-in support for consulting various forms of data structures describing the virtual memory layout of a process or task. So, when a memory access fails, the information about the actual memory address involved can be retrieved from such a predefined structure.

However, the MIPS architecture largely delegates such matters to software: a processor exception is raised when a “bad” virtual address is used, and the job of doing something about it falls immediately to a software routine. So, there seems to be some kind of parallel between processor architecture and operating system architecture, L4 taking a MIPS-like approach of eager delegation to a software component for increased flexibility and functionality.

Messages and Flexpages

So, the high-level view so far is as follows:

• Dataspaces represent regions of virtual memory
• Virtual memory is mapped to physical memory where the data actually resides
• When a virtual memory access cannot be satisfied, a page fault occurs
• Page faults are delivered to pagers (acting as dataspace managers) for resolution
• Pagers make data available and indicate the necessary mapping to satisfy the failing access

To get to the level of actual implementation, some familiarisation with other concepts is needed. Previously, my efforts have exposed me to the interprocess communications (IPC) central in L4Re as a microkernel-based system. I had even managed to gain some level of understanding around sending references or capabilities between processes or tasks. And it was apparent that this mechanism would be used to support paging.

Unfortunately, the main L4Re documentation does not seem to emphasise the actual message details or protocols involved in these fundamental activities. Instead, the library code is described in reference documentation with some additional explanation. However, some investigation of the code yielded some insights as to the kind of interfaces the existing dataspace implementations must support, and I also tracked down some message sending activities in various components.

When a page fault occurs, the first thing to know about it is the kernel because the fault occurs at the fundamental level of instruction execution, and it is the kernel’s job to deal with such low-level events in the first instance. Notification of the fault is then sent out of the kernel to the page fault handler for the affected task. The page fault handler then contacts the task’s pager to request a resolution to the problem.

Page fault handling in detail

In L4Re, this page fault handler is likely to be something called a region mapper (or perhaps a region manager), and so it is not completely surprising that the details of invoking the pager was located in some region mapper code. Putting together both halves of the interaction yielded the following details of the message:

• map: offset, hot spot, flags → flexpage

Here, the offset is the position of the failing memory access relative to the start of the dataspace; the flags describe the nature of the memory to be accessed. The “hot spot” and “flexpage” need slightly more explanation, the latter being an established term in L4 circles, the former being almost arbitrarily chosen and not particularly descriptive.

The term “flexpage” may have its public origins in the “Flexible-Sized Page-Objects” paper whose title describes the term. For our purposes, the significance of the term is that it allows for the consideration of memory pages in a range of sizes instead of merely considering a single system-wide page size. These sizes start at the smallest page size supported by the system (but not necessarily the absolute smallest supported by the hardware, but anyway…) and each successively larger size is double the size preceding it. For example:

• 4096 (2¹²) bytes
• 8192 (2¹³) bytes
• 16384 (2¹⁴) bytes
• 32768 (2¹⁵) bytes
• 65536 (2¹⁶) bytes
• …

When a page fault occurs, the handler identifies a region of memory where the failing access is occurring. Although it could merely request that memory be made available for a single page (of the smallest size) in which the access is situated, there is the possibility that a larger amount of memory be made available that encompasses this access page. The flexpage involved in a map request represents such a region of memory, having a size not necessarily decided in advance, being made available to the affected task.

This brings us to the significance of the “hot spot” and some investigation into how the page fault handler and pager interact. I must admit that I find various educational materials to be a bit vague on this matter, at least with regard to explicitly describing the appropriate behaviour. Here, the flexpage paper was helpful in providing slightly different explanations, albeit employing the term “fraction” instead of “hot spot”.

Since the map request needs to indicate the constraints applying to the region in which the failing access occurs, without demanding a particular size of region and yet still providing enough useful information to the pager for the resulting flexpage to be useful, an efficient way is needed of describing the memory landscape in the affected task. This is apparently where the “hot spot” comes in. Consider a failing access in page #3 of a memory region in a task, with the memory available in the pager to satisfy the request being limited to two pages:

Mapping available memory to pages in a task experiencing a page fault

Here, the “hot spot” would reference page #3, and this information would be received by the pager. The significance of the “hot spot” appears to be the location of the failing access within a flexpage, and if the pager could provide it then a flexpage of four system pages would map precisely to the largest flexpage expected by the handler for the task.

However, with only two system pages to spare, the pager can only send a flexpage consisting of those two pages, the “hot spot” being localised in page #1 of the flexpage to be sent, and the base of this flexpage being the base of page #0. Fortunately, the handler is smart enough to fit this smaller flexpage onto the “receive window” by using the original “hot spot” information, mapping page #2 in the receive window to page #0 of the received flexpage and thus mapping the access page #3 to page #1 of that flexpage.

So, the following seems to be considered and thus defined by the page fault handler:

• The largest flexpage that could be used to satisfy the failing access.
• The base of this flexpage.
• The page within this flexpage where the access occurs: the “hot spot”.
• The offset within the broader dataspace of the failing access, it indicating the data that would be expected in this page.

(Given this phrasing of the criteria, it becomes apparent that “flexpage offset” might be a better term than “hot spot”.)

With these things transferred to the pager using a map request, the pager’s considerations are as follows:

• How flexpages of different sizes may fit within the memory available to satisfy the request.
• The base of the most appropriate flexpage, where this might be the largest that fits within the available memory.
• The population of the available memory with data from the dataspace.

To respond to the request, the pager sends a special flexpage item in its response message. Consequently, this flexpage is mapped into the task’s address space, and the execution of the task may resume with the missing data now available.

Practicalities and Pitfalls

If the dataspace being provided by a pager were merely a contiguous region of memory containing the data, there would probably be little else to say on the matter, but in the above I hint at some other applications. In my example, the pager only uses a certain amount of memory with which it responds to map requests. Evidently, in providing a dataspace representing a larger region, the data would have to be brought in from elsewhere, which raises some other issues.

Firstly, if data is to be copied into the limited region of memory available for satisfying map requests, then the appropriate portion of the data needs to be selected. This is mostly a matter of identifying how the available memory pages correspond to the data, then copying the data into the pages so that the accessed location ultimately provides the expected data. It may also be the case that the amount of data available does not fill the available memory pages; this should cause the rest of those pages to be filled with zeros so that data cannot leak between map requests.

Secondly, if the available memory pages are to be used to satisfy the current map request, then what happens when we re-use them in each new map request? It turns out that the mappings made for previous requests remain active! So if a task traverses a sequence of pages, and if each successive page encountered in that traversal causes a page fault, then it will seem that new data is being made available in each of those pages. But if that task inspects the earlier pages, it will find that the newest data is exposed through those pages, too, banishing the data that we might have expected.

Of course, what is happening is that all of the mapped pages in the task’s dataspace now refer to the same collection of pages in the pager, these being dedicated to satisfying the latest map request. And so, they will all reflect the contents of those available memory pages as they currently are after this latest map request.

The effect of mapping the same page repeatedly

One solution to this problem is to try and make the task forget the mappings for pages it has visited previously. I wondered if this could be done automatically, by sending a flexpage from the pager with a flag set to tell the kernel to invalidate prior mappings to the pager’s memory. After a time looking at the code, I ended up asking on the l4-hackers mailing list and getting a very helpful response that was exactly what I had been looking for!

There is, in fact, a special way of telling the kernel to “unmap” memory used by other tasks (l4_task_unmap), and it is this operation that I ended up using to invalidate the mappings previously sent to the task. Thus the task, upon backtracking to earlier pages, finds that the mappings from virtual addresses to the physical memory holding the latest data are absent once again, and page faults are needed to restore the data in those pages. The result is a form of multiplexing access to a resource via a limited region of memory.

Applications of Flexible Paging

Given the context of my investigations, it goes almost without saying that the origin of data in such a dataspace could be a file in a filesystem, but it could equally be anything that exposes data in some kind of backing store. And with this backing store not necessarily being an area of random access memory (RAM), we enter the realm of a more restrictive definition of paging where processes running in a system can themselves be partially resident in RAM and partially resident in some other kind of storage, with the latter portions being converted to the former by being fetched from wherever they reside, depending on the demands made on the system at any given point in time.

One observation worth making is that a dataspace does not need to be a dedicated component in the system in that it is not a separate and special kind of entity. Anything that is able to respond to the messages understood by dataspaces – the paging “protocol” – can provide dataspaces. A filesystem object can therefore act as a dataspace, exposing itself in a region of memory and responding to map requests that involve populating that region from the filesystem storage.

It is also worth mentioning that dataspaces and flexpages exist at different levels of abstraction. Dataspaces can be considered as control mechanisms for accessing regions of virtual memory, and the Fiasco.OC kernel does not appear to employ the term at all. Meanwhile, flexpages are abstractions for memory pages existing within or even independently of dataspaces. (If you wish, think of the frame of Banksy’s work “Love is in the Bin” as a dataspace, with the shredded pieces being flexpages that are mapped in and out.)

One can envisage more exotic forms of dataspace. Consider an image whose pixels need to be computed, like a ray-traced image, for instance. If it exposed those pixels as a dataspace, then a task reading from pages associated with that dataspace might cause computations to be initiated for an area of the image, with the task being suspended until those computations are performed and then being resumed with the pixel data ready to read, with all of this happening largely transparently.

I started this exercise out of somewhat idle curiosity, but it now makes me wonder whether I might introduce memory-mapped access to filesystem objects and then re-implement operations like reading and writing using this particular mechanism. Not being familiar with how systems like GNU/Linux provide these operations, I can only speculate as to whether similar decisions have been taken elsewhere.

But certainly, this exercise has been informative, even if certain aspects of it were frustrating. I hope that this account of my investigations proves useful to anyone else wondering about microkernel-based systems and L4Re in particular, especially if they too wish there were more discussion, reflection and collaboration on the design and implementation of software for these kinds of systems.

Given the content covered by my previous articles, there probably doesn’t seem to be too much that needs saying about the topic covered by this article. Previously, I described the work involved in building libext2fs for L4Re and testing the library, and I described a framework for separating filesystem providers from programs that want to use files. But, as always, there are plenty of little details, detours and learning experiences that help to make the tale longer than it otherwise might have been.

Although this file access framework sounds intimidating, it is always worth remembering that the only exotic thing about the software being written is that it needs to request system resources and to communicate with other programs. That can be tricky in itself in many programming environments, and I have certainly spent enough time trying to figure out how to use the types and functions provided by the many L4Re libraries so that these operations may actually work.

But in the end, these are programs that are run just like any other. We aren’t building things into the kernel and having to conform to a particularly restricted environment. And although it can still be tiresome to have to debug things, particularly interprocess communication (IPC) problems, many familiar techniques for debugging and inspecting program behaviour remain available to us.

A Quick Translation

The test program I had written for libext2fs simply opened a file located in the “rom” filesystem, exposed it to libext2fs, and performed operations to extract content. In my framework, I had directed my attention towards opening and reading files, so it made sense to concentrate on providing this functionality in a filesystem server or “provider”.

Accessing a filesystem server employing a "rom" file for the data

The user of the framework (shielded from the details by a client library) would request the opening of a file (thus obtaining a file descriptor able to communicate with a dedicated resource object) and then read from the file (causing communication with the resource object and some transfers of data). These operations, previously done in a single program employing libext2fs directly, would now require collaboration by two separate programs.

So, I would need to insert the appropriate code in the right places in my filesystem server and its objects to open a filesystem, search for a file of the given name, and to provide the file data. For the first of these, the test program was doing something like this in the main function:

retval = ext2fs_open(devname, EXT2_FLAG_RW, 0, 0, unix_io_manager, &fs);

In the main function of the filesystem server program, something similar needs to be done. A reference to the filesystem (fs) is then passed to the server object for it to use:

Fs_server server_obj(fs, devname);

When a request is made to open a file, the filesystem server needs to locate the file just as the test program needed to. The code to achieve this is tedious, employing the ext2fs_lookup function and traversing the directory hierarchy. Ultimately, something like this needs to be done to obtain a structure for accessing the file contents:

retval = ext2fs_file_open(_fs, ino_file, ext2flags, &file);

Here, the _fs variable is our reference in the server object to the filesystem structure, the ino_file variable refers to the place in the filesystem where the file is found (the inode), some flags indicate things like whether we are reading and/or writing, and a supplied file variable is set upon the successful opening of the file. In the filesystem server, we want to create a specific object to conduct access to the file:

Fs_object *obj = new Fs_object(file, EXT2_I_SIZE(&inode_file), fsobj, irq);

Here, this resource object is initialised with the file access structure, an indication of the file size, something encapsulating the state of the communication between client and server, and the IRQ object needed for cleaning up (as described in the last article). Meanwhile, in the resource object, the read operation is supported by a pair of libext2fs functions:

ext2fs_file_lseek(_file, _obj.position, EXT2_SEEK_SET, 0);
ext2fs_file_read(_file, _obj.buffer, to_transfer, &read);

These don’t appear next to each other in the actual code, but the first call is used to seek to the indicated position in the file, this having been specified by the client. The second call appears in a loop to read into a buffer an indicated amount of data, returning the amount that was actually read.

In summary, the work done by a collection of function calls appearing together in a single function is now spread out over three places in the filesystem server program:

• The initialisation is done in the main function as the server starts up
• The locating and opening of a file in the filesystem is done in the general filesystem server object
• Reading and writing is done in the file-specific resource object

After initialisation, the performance of each part of the work only occurs upon receiving a distinct kind of message from a client program, of which more details are given below.

The Client Library

Although we cannot yet use the familiar C library functions for accessing files (fopen, fread, fwrite, fclose, and so on), we can employ functions that try to be as friendly. Thus, the following form of program may be used:

char buffer[80];
file_descriptor_t *desc = client_open("test.txt", O_RDONLY);

available = client_read(desc, buffer, 80);
if (available)
    fwrite((void *) buffer, sizeof(char), available, stdout); /* using existing fwrite function */
client_close(desc);

As noted above, the existing fwrite function in L4Re may be used to write file data out to the console. Ultimately, we would want our modified version of the function to be doing this job.

These client library functions resemble lower-level C library functions such as open, read, write, close, and so on. By targeting this particular level of functionality, it is hoped that much of the logic in functions like fopen can be preserved, this logic having to deal with things like mode strings (“r”, “r+”, “w”, and so on) which have little to do with the actual job of transmitting file content around the system.

In order to do their work, the client library functions need to send and receive IPC messages, or at least need to get other functions to deal with this particular work. My approach has been to write a layer of functions that only deals with messaging and that hides the L4-specific details from the rest of the code.

This lower-level layer of functions allows us to treat interprocess interactions like normal function calls, and in this framework those calls would have the following signatures, with the inputs arriving at the server and the outputs arriving back at the client:

• fs_open: flags, buffer → file size, resource object
• fs_flush: (no parameters) → (no return values)
• fs_read: position → available
• fs_write: position, available → written, file size

The responsibilities of the client library functions can be summarised as follows:

• client_open: allocate memory for the buffer, obtain a server reference (“capability”) from the program’s environment
• client_close: deallocate the allocated resources
• client_flush: invoke fs_flush with any available data, resetting the buffer status
• client_read: provide data to the caller from its buffer, invoking fs_read whenever the buffer is empty
• client_write: commit data from the caller into the buffer, invoking fs_write whenever the buffer is full, also flushing the buffer when appropriate

The lack of a fs_close function might seem surprising, but as described in the previous article, the server process is designed to receive a notification when the client process discards a reference to the resource object dedicated to a particular file. So in client_close, we should be able to merely throw away the things acquired by client_open, and the system together with the server will hopefully handle the consequences.

Switching the Backend

Using a conventional file as the repository for file content is convenient, but since the aim is to replace the existing filesystem mechanisms, it would seem necessary to try and get libext2fs to use other ways of accessing the underlying storage. Previously, my considerations had led me to provide a “block” storage layer underneath the filesystem layer. So it made sense to investigate how libext2fs might communicate with a “block server” or “block device” in order to read and write raw filesystem data.

Employing a separate server to provide filesystem data

Changing the way libext2fs accesses its storage sounds like an ominous task, but fortunately some thought has evidently gone into accommodating different storage types and platforms. Indeed, the library code includes support for things like DOS and Windows, with this functionality evidently being used by various applications on those platforms (or, these days, the latter one, at least) to provide some kind of file browser support for ext2-family filesystems.

The kind of component involved in providing this variety of support is known as an “I/O manager”, and the one that we have been using is known as the “Unix” I/O manager, this employing POSIX or standard C library calls to access files and devices. Now, this may have been adequate until now, but with the requirement that we use the replacement IPC mechanisms to access a block server, we need to consider how a different kind of I/O manager might be implemented to use the client library functions instead of the C library functions.

This exercise turned out to be relatively straightforward and perhaps a little less work than envisaged once the requirements of initialising an io_channel object had been understood, this involving the allocation of memory and the population of a structure to indicate things like the block size, error status, and so on. Beyond this, the principal operations needing support are as follows:

• open: initialises the io_channel and calls client_open
• close: calls client_close
• set block size: sets the block size for transfers, something that gets done at various points in the opening of a filesystem
• read block: calls client_seek and client_read to obtain data from the block server
• write block: calls client_seek and client_write to commit data to the block server

It should be noted that the block server largely acts like a single-file filesystem, so the same interface supported by the filesystem server is also supported by the block server. This is how we get away with using the client libraries.

Meanwhile, in the filesystem server code, the only changes required are to declare the new I/O manager, implemented in a separate library package, and to use it instead of the previous one:

retval = ext2fs_open(devname, ext2flags, 0, 0, blockserver_io_manager, &fs);

The Final Trick

By pushing use of the “rom” filesystem further down in the system, use of the new file access mechanisms can be introduced and tested, with the only “unauthentic” aspect of the arrangement being that a parallel set of file access functions is being used instead of the conventional ones. The only thing left to do would be to change the C library to incorporate the new style of file access, probably by incorporating the client library internally, thus switching the C library away from its previous method of accessing files.

With the conventional file abstractions reimplemented, access to files would go via the virtual filesystem and hopefully end up encountering block devices that are able to serve up the needed data directly. And ultimately, we could end up switching back to using the Unix I/O manager with libext2fs.

Introducing the new IPC mechanisms at the C library level

Changing things so drastically would also force us to think about maintaining access to the “rom” filesystem through the revised architecture, at least at first, because it happens to provide a very convenient way of getting access to data for use as storage. We could try and implement storage hardware support in order to get round this problem, but that probably isn’t convenient – or would be a distraction – when running L4Re on Fiasco.OC-UX as a kind of hosted version of the software.

Indeed, tackling the C library is probably too much of a challenge at this early stage. Fortunately, there are plenty of other issues to be considered first, with the use of non-standard file access functions being only a minor inconvenience in the broader scheme of things. For instance, how are permissions and user identities to be managed? What about concurrent access to the filesystem? And what mechanisms would need to be provided for grafting filesystems onto a larger virtual filesystem hierarchy? I hope to try and discuss some of these things in future articles.

I spent some time recently looking at my Python-like language, Lichen, and its toolchain. Although my focus was on improving support for floating point numbers and arithmetic, of which more may need to be written in a future article, I ended up noticing a few things that needed correcting and had escaped my attention. One of these probably goes a long way to solving a mystery raised in a previous article.

The investigation into floating point support necessitated some scrutiny of the way floating point numbers are allocated when compiled Lichen programs are run. CPython – the C language implementation of a virtual machine for the Python language – has various strategies for reserving memory for floating point numbers, this not being particularly surprising given what it does for integers, as we previously saw. What bothered me was how much time was being spent allocating space for numbers needed to store computation results.

I spent quite a bit of time looking at the run-time support code for compiled programs, trying different strategies to “preallocate” number instances and other things, but it was when I was considering various other optimisation strategies and running generated programs in the GNU debugger (gdb) that I happened to notice something about the type definitions that are generated for instances. For example, here is what a tuple instance type looks like:

typedef struct {
    const __table * table;
    __pos pos;
    __attr attrs[__csize___builtins___tuple_tuple];
} __obj___builtins___tuple_tuple;

And here is what it should look like:

typedef struct {
    const __table * table;
    __pos pos;
    __attr attrs[__isize___builtins___tuple_tuple];
} __obj___builtins___tuple_tuple;

Naturally, I will excuse you for not necessarily noticing the crucial difference, but it is the size of the attrs array, this defining the attributes that are available via each instance of the tuple type. And here, I had used a constant prefixed with “__csize” meaning class size, as opposed to “__isize” meaning instance size. With so many things to think about when finishing off my toolchain, I had accidentally presented the wrong kind of value to the code generating these type definitions.

So, what was going to happen was that instances were going to be given the wrong number of attributes: a potentially catastrophic fault! But it is in the case of types like the tuple where things get more interesting than that. Such types tend to have lots of methods associated with them, and these methods are, of course, stored as class attributes.

Meanwhile, tuple instances are likely to have far fewer attributes, and even when the tuple data is considered, since tuples frequently have few elements, such instances are also likely to be far smaller than the size of the tuple class’s structure. Indeed, the following definitions are more or less indicative of the sizes of the tuple class and of tuple instances:

__csize___builtins___tuple_tuple = 36
__isize___builtins___tuple_tuple = 2

And I had noticed this because, for some reason unknown to me at the time but obviously known to me now, floating point numbers were being allocated using far more space than I thought appropriate. Here are some definitions of interest:

__csize___builtins___float_float = 43
__isize___builtins___float_float = 1

Evidently, something was very wrong until I noticed my simple mistake: that in the code generating the definitions for program types, I had accidentally used the wrong constant for instance attribute arrays. Fixing this meant that the memory allocator probably only needed to find 16 bytes or so, as opposed to maybe 186 bytes, for each number!

Returning to tuples, though, it becomes interesting to see what effect this fix has on the performance of the benchmark previously discussed. We had previously seen that a program using tuples was inexplicably far slower than one employing objects to represent the same data. But with this unnecessary allocation occurring, it seems possible that this might have been making some extra work for the allocator and garbage collector.

Here is a table of measurements from running the benchmark before and after the fix had been applied:

Although there is still a benefit to using objects to model data in Lichen as opposed to keeping such data in tuples, the benefit is not as pronounced as before, with the memory usage now clearly comparable as we would expect. With this fix applied, both versions of the benchmark are even faster than they were before, but it is especially gratifying that the object-based version is now ten times faster when compiled with the Lichen toolchain than the same program run by the CPython virtual machine.

In my previous posts, I discussed the possibility of using “real world” filesystems in L4Re, initially considering the nature of code to access an ext2-based filesystem using the library known as libext2fs, then getting some of that code working within L4Re itself. Having previously investigated the nature of abstractions for providing filesystems and file objects to applications, it was inevitable that I would now want to incorporate libext2fs into those abstractions and to try and access files residing in an ext2 filesystem using those abstractions.

It should be remembered that L4Re already provides a framework for filesystem access, known as Vfs or “virtual file system”. This appears to be the way the standard file access functions are supported, with the “rom” part of the filesystem hierarchy being supported by a “namespace filesystem” library that understands the way that the deployed payload modules are made available as files. To support other kinds of filesystem, other libraries must apparently be registered and made available to programs.

Although I am sure that the developers of the existing Vfs framework are highly competent, I found the mechanisms difficult to follow and quite unlike what I expected, which was to see a clear separation between programs accessing files and other programs providing those files. Indeed, this is what one sees when looking at other systems such as Minix 3 and its virtual filesystem. I must also admit that I became tired of having to dig into the code to understand the abstractions in order to supplement the reference documentation for the Vfs framework in L4Re.

An Alternative Framework

It might be too soon to label what I have done as a framework, but at the very least I needed to decide upon a few mechanisms to implement an alternative approach to providing file-like abstractions to programs within L4Re. There were a few essential characteristics to be incorporated:

• A way of requesting access to a named file
• The provision of objects maintaining the state of access to an opened file
• The transmission of file content to file readers and from file writers
• A way of cleaning up when programs are no longer accessing files

One characteristic that I did want to uphold in any solution was to make programs largely oblivious to the nature of the accessed filesystems. They would navigate a virtual filesystem hierarchy, just as one does in Unix-like systems, with certain directories acting as gateways to devices exposing potentially different filesystems with superficially similar semantics.

Requesting File Access

In a system like L4Re, with notions of clients and servers already prevalent, it seems natural to support a mechanism for requesting access to files that sees a client – a program wanting to access a file – delegating the task of locating that file to a server. How the server performs this task may be as simple or as complicated as we wish, depending on what kind of architecture we choose to support. In an operating system with a “monolithic” kernel, like GNU/Linux, we also see such delegation occurring, with the kernel being the entity having to support the necessary wiring up of filesystems contributing to the virtual filesystem.

So, it makes sense to support an “open” system call just like in other operating systems. The difference here, however, is that since L4Re is a microkernel-based environment, both the caller and the target of the call are mere programs, with the kernel only getting involved to route the call or message between the programs concerned. We would first need to make sure that the program accessing files has a reference (known as a “capability”) to another program that provides a filesystem and can respond to this “open” message. This wiring up of programs is a task for the system’s configuration file, as featured in some of my previous articles.

We may now consider what the filesystem-providing program or filesystem “server” needs to do when receiving an “open” message. Let us consider the failure to find the requested file: the filesystem server would, in such an event, probably just return a response indicating failure without any real need to do anything else. It is in the case of a successful lookup that the response to the caller or client needs some more consideration: the server could indicate success, but what is the client going to do with such information? And how should the server then facilitate further access to the file itself?

Providing Objects for File Access

It becomes gradually clearer that the filesystem server will need to allocate some resources for the client to conduct its activities, to hold information read from the filesystem itself and to hold data sent for writing back to the opened file. The server could manage this within a single abstraction and support a range of different operations, accommodating not only requests to open files but also operations on the opened files themselves. However, this might make the abstraction complicated and also raise issues around things like concurrency.

What if this server object ends up being so busy that while waiting for reading or writing operations to complete on a file for one program, it leaves other programs queuing up to ask about or gain access to other files? It all starts to sound like another kind of abstraction would be beneficial for access to specific files for specific clients. Consequently, we end up with an arrangement like this:

Accessing a filesystem and a resource

When a filesystem server receives an “open” message and locates a file, it allocates a separate object to act as a contact point for subsequent access to that file. This leaves the filesystem object free to service other requests, with these separate resource objects dealing with the needs of the programs wanting to read from and write to each individual file.

The underlying mechanisms by which a separate resource object is created and exposed are as follows:

1. The instantiation of an object in the filesystem server program holding the details of the accessed file.
2. The creation of a new thread of execution in which the object will run. This permits it to handle incoming messages concurrently with the filesystem object.
3. The creation of an “IPC gate” for the thread. This effectively exposes the object to the wider environment as what often appears to be known as a “kernel object” (rather confusingly, but it simply means that the kernel is aware of it and has to do some housekeeping for it).

Once activated, the thread created for the resource is dedicated to listening for incoming messages and handling them, invoking methods on the resource object as a proxy for the client sending those messages to achieve the same effect.

Transmitting File Content

Although we have looked at how files manifest themselves and may be referenced, the matter of obtaining their contents has not been examined too closely so far. A program might be able to obtain a reference to a resource object and to send it messages and receive responses, but this is not likely to be sufficient for transferring content to and from the file. The reason for this is that the messages sent between programs – or processes, since this is how we usually call programs that are running – are deliberately limited in size.

Thus, another way of exchanging this data is needed. In a situation where we are reading from a file, what we would most likely want to see is a read operation populate some memory for us in our process. Indeed, in a system like GNU/Linux, I imagine that the Linux kernel shuttles the file data from the filesystem module responsible to an area of memory that it has reserved and exposed to the process. In a microkernel-based system, things have to be done more “collaboratively”.

The answer, it would seem to me, is to have dedicated memory that is shared between processes. Fortunately, and arguably unsurprisingly, L4Re provides an abstraction known as a “dataspace” that provides the foundation for such sharing. My approach, then, involves requesting a dataspace to act as a conduit for data, making the dataspace available to the file-accessing client and the file-providing server object, and then having a protocol to notify each other about data being sent in each direction.

I considered whether it would be most appropriate for the client to request the memory or whether the server should do so, eventually concluding that the client could decide how much space it would want as a buffer, handing this over to the server to use to whatever extent it could. A benefit of doing things this way is that the client may communicate initialisation details when it contacts the server, and so it becomes possible to transfer a filesystem path – the location of a file from the root of the filesystem hierarchy – without it being limited to the size of an interprocess message.

Opening a file using a path written to shared memory

So, the “open” message references the newly-created dataspace, and the filesystem server reads the path written to the dataspace’s memory so that it may use it to locate the requested file. The dataspace is not retained by the filesystem object but is instead passed to the resource object which will then share the memory with the application or client. As described above, a reference to the resource object is returned in the response to the “open” message.

It is worthwhile to consider the act of reading from a file exposed in this way. Although both client (the application in the above diagram) and server (resource object) should be able to access the shared “buffer”, it would not be a good idea to let them do so freely. Instead, their roles should be defined by the protocol employed for communication with one another. For a simple synchronous approach it would look like this:

Reading data from a resource via a shared buffer

Here, upon the application or client invoking the “read” operation (in other words, sending the “read” message) on the resource object, the resource is able to take control of the buffer, obtaining data from the file and writing it to the buffer memory. When it is done, its reply or response needs to indicate the updated state of the buffer so that the client will know how much data there is available, potentially amongst other things of interest.

Cleaning Up

Many of us will be familiar with the workflow of opening, reading and writing, and closing files. This final activity is essential not only for our own programs but also for the system, so that it does not tie up resources for activities that are no longer taking place. In the filesystem server, for the resource object, a “close” operation can be provided that causes the allocated memory to be freed and the resource object to be discarded.

However, merely providing a “close” operation does not guarantee that a program would use it, and we would not want a situation where a program exits or crashes without having invoked this operation, leaving the server holding resources that it cannot safely discard. We therefore need a way of cleaning up after a program regardless of whether it sees the need to do so itself.

In my earliest experiments with L4Re on the MIPS Creator CI20, I had previously encountered the use of interrupt request (IRQ) objects, in that case signalling hardware-initiated events such as the pressing of physical switches. But I also knew that the IRQ abstraction is employed more widely in L4Re to allow programs to participate in activities that would normally be the responsibility of the kernel in a monolithic architecture. It made me wonder whether there might be interrupts communicating the termination of a process that could then be used to clean up afterwards.

One area of interest is that concerning the “IPC gate” mentioned above. This provides the channel through which messages are delivered to a particular running program, and up to this point, we have considered how a resource object has its own IPC gate for the delivery of messages intended for it. But it also turns out that we can also enable notifications with regard to the status of the IPC gate via the same mechanism.

By creating an IRQ object and associating it with a thread as the “deletion IRQ”, when the kernel decides that the IPC gate is no longer needed, this IRQ will be delivered. And the kernel will make this decision when nothing in the system needs to use the IPC gate any more. Since the IPC gate was only created to service messages from a single client, it is precisely when that client terminates that the kernel will realise that the IPC gate has no other users.

Resource deletion upon the termination of a client

To enable this to actually work, however, a little trick is required: the server must indicate that it is ready to dispose of the IPC gate whenever necessary, doing so by decreasing the “reference count” which tracks how many things in the system are using the IPC gate. So this is what happens:

1. The IPC gate is created for the resource thread, and its details are passed to the client, exposing the resource object.
2. An IRQ object is bound to the thread and associated with the IPC gate deletion event.
3. The server decreases its reference count, relinquishing the IPC gate and allowing its eventual destruction.
4. The client and server communicate as desired.
5. Upon the client terminating, the kernel disassociates the client from the IPC gate, decreasing the reference count.
6. The kernel notices that the reference count is zero and sends an IRQ telling the server about the impending IPC gate deletion.
7. The resource thread in the server deallocates the resource object and terminates.
8. The IPC gate is deleted.

Using the “gate label”, the thread handling communications for the resource object is able to distinguish between the interrupt condition and normal messages from the client. Consequently, it is able to invoke the appropriate cleaning up routine, to discard the resource object, and to terminate the thread. Hopefully, with this approach, resource objects will no longer be hanging around long after their clients have disappeared.

Other Approaches

Another approach to providing file content did also occur to me, and I wondered whether this might have been a component of the “namespace filesystem” in L4Re. One technique for accessing files involves mapping the entire file into memory using a “mmap” function. This could be supported by requesting a dataspace of a suitable size, but only choosing to populate a region of it initially.

The file-accessing program would attempt to access the memory associated with the file, and upon straying outside the populated region, some kind of “fault” would occur. A filesystem server would have the job of handling this fault, fetching more data, allocating more memory pages, mapping them into the file’s memory area, and disposing of unwanted pages, potentially writing modified pages to the appropriate parts of the file.

In effect, the filesystem server would act as a pager, as far as I can tell, and I believe it to be the case that Moe – the root task – acts in such a way to provide the “rom” files from the deployed payload modules. Currently, I don’t find it particularly obvious from the documentation how I might implement a pager, and I imagine that if I choose to support such things, I will end up having to trawl the code for hints on how it might be done.

Client Library Functions

To present a relatively convenient interface to programs wanting to use files, some client library functions need to be provided. The intention with these is to support the traditional C library paradigms and for these functions to behave like those that C programmers are generally familiar with. This means performing interprocess communications using the “open”, “read”, “write”, “close” and other messages when necessary, hiding the act of sending such messages from the library user.

The details of such a client library are probably best left to another article. With some kind of mechanism in place for accessing files, it becomes a matter of experimentation to see what the demands of the different operations are, and how they may be tuned to reduce the need for interactions with server objects, hopefully allowing file-accessing programs to operate efficiently.

The next article on this topic is likely to consider the integration of libext2fs with this effort, along with the library functionality required to exercise and test it. And it will hopefully be able to report some real experiences of accessing ext2-resident files in relatively understandable programs.

Previously, I described my initial investigations into libext2fs and the development of programs to access and populate ext2/3/4 filesystems. With a program written and now successfully using libext2fs in my normal GNU/Linux environment, the next step appeared to be the task of getting this library to work within the L4Re system. The following steps were envisaged:

1. Figuring out the code that would be needed, this hopefully being supportable within L4Re.
2. Introducing the software as a package within L4Re.
3. Discovering the configuration required to build the code for L4Re.
4. Actually generating a library file.
5. Testing the library with a program.

This process is not properly completed in that I do not yet have a good way of integrating with the L4Re configuration and using its details to configure the libext2fs code. I felt somewhat lazy with regard to reconciling the use of autotools with the rather different approach taken to build L4Re, which is somewhat reminiscent of things like Buildroot and OpenWrt in certain respects.

So, instead, I built the Debian package from source in my normal environment, grabbed the config.h file that was produced, and proceeded to use it with a vastly simplified Makefile arrangement, also in my normal environment, until I was comfortable with building the library. Indeed, this exercise of simplified building also let me consider which portions of the libext2fs distribution would really be needed for my purposes. I did not really fancy having to struggle to build files that would ultimately be superfluous.

Still, as I noted, this work isn’t finished. However, it is useful to document what I have done so far so that I can subsequently describe other, more definitive, work.

Making a Package

With a library that seemed to work with the archiving program, written to populate filesystems for eventual deployment, I then set about formulating this simplified library distribution as a package within L4Re. This involves a few things:

• Structuring the files so that the build system may process them.
• Persuading the build system to install things in places for other packages to find.
• Formulating the appropriate definitions to build the source files (and thus producing the right compiler and linker invocations).

The Package Structure

Currently, I have the following arrangement inside the pkg/libext2fs directory:

include
include/libblkid
include/libe2p
include/libet
include/libext2fs
include/libsupport
include/libuuid
lib
lib/libblkid
lib/libe2p
lib/libet
lib/libext2fs
lib/libsupport
lib/libuuid

To follow L4Re conventions, public header files have been moved into the include hierarchy. This breaks assumptions in the code, with header files being referenced without a prefix (like “ext2fs”, “et”, “e2p”, and so on) in some places, but being referenced with such a prefix in others. The original build system for the code gets away with this by using the “ext2fs” and other prefixes as the directory names containing the code for the different libraries. It then indicates the parent “lib” directory of these directories as the place to start looking for headers.

But I thought it worthwhile to try and map out the header usage and distinguish between public and private headers. At the very least, it helps me to establish the relationships between the different components involved. And I may end up splitting the different components into their own packages, requiring some formalisation of their interactions.

Meanwhile, I defined a Control file to indicate what the package provides:

provides: libblkid libe2p libet libext2fs libsupport libuuid

This appears to be used in dependency resolution, causing the package to be built if another package requires one of the named entities in its own Control file.

Header File Locations

In each include subdirectory (such as include/libext2fs) is a Makefile indicating a couple of things, the following being used for libext2fs:

PKGNAME = libext2fs
CONTRIB_HEADERS = 1

The effect of this is to install the headers into a include/contrib/libext2fs directory in the build output.

In the corresponding lib subdirectory (which is lib/libext2fs), the following seems to be needed:

CONTRIB_INCDIR = libext2fs

Hopefully, with this, other packages can depend on libext2fs and have the headers made available to it by an include statement like this:

#include <ext2fs/ext2fs.h>

(The ext2fs prefix is provided by a directory inside include/libext2fs.)

Otherwise, headers may end up being put in a special “l4” hierarchy, and then code would need changing to look something like this:

#include <l4/ext2fs/ext2fs.h>

So, avoiding this and having the original naming seems to be the benefit of the “contrib” settings, as far as I can tell.

Defining Build Files

The Makefile in each specific lib subdirectory employs the usual L4Re build system definitions:

TARGET          = libext2fs.a libext2fs.so
PC_FILENAME     = libext2fs

The latter of these is used to identify the build products so that the appropriate compiler and linker options can be retrieved by the build system when this library is required by another. Here, PC is short for “package config” but the notion of “package” is different from that otherwise used in this article: it just refers to the specific library being built in this case.

An important aspect related to “package config” involves the requirements or dependencies of this library. These are specified as follows for libext2fs:

REQUIRES_LIBS   = libet libe2p

We saw these things in the Control file. By indicating these other libraries, the compiler and linker options to find and use these other libraries will be brought in when something else requires libext2fs. This should help to prevent build failures caused by missing headers or libraries, and it should also permit more concise declarations of requirements by allowing those declarations to omit libet and libe2p in this case.

Meanwhile, the actual source files are listed using a SRC_C definition, and the PRIVATE_INCDIR definition lists the different paths to be used to search for header files within this package. Moving the header files around complicates this latter definition substantially.

There are other complications with libext2fs, notably the building of a tool that generates a file to be used when building the library itself. I will try and return to this matter at some point and figure out a way of doing this within the build system. Such generation of binaries for use in build processes can be problematic, particularly if there is some kind of assumption that the build system is the same as the target system, but such assumptions are probably not being made here.

Building the Library

Fortunately, the build system mostly takes care of everything else, and a command like this should see the package being built and libraries produced:

make O=mybuild S=pkg/libext2fs

The “S” option is a real time saver, and I wish I had made more use of it before. Use of the “V” option can be helpful in debugging command options, since the normal output is abridged:

make O=mybuild S=pkg/libext2fs V=1

I will admit that since certain header files are not provided by L4Re, a degree of editing of the config.h file was required. Things like HAVE_LINUX_FD_H, indicating the availability of Linux-specific headers, needed to be removed.

Testing the Library

An appropriate program for testing the library is really not much different from one used in a GNU/Linux environment. Indeed, I just took some code from my existing program that lists a directory inside a filesystem image. Since L4Re should provide enough of a POSIX-like environment to support such unambitious programs, practically no changes were needed and no special header files were included.

A suitable Makefile is needed, of course, but the examples package in L4Re provides plenty of guidance. The most important part is this, however:

REQUIRES_LIBS   = libext2fs

A Control file requiring libext2fs is actually not necessary for an example in the examples hierarchy, it would seem, but such a file would otherwise be advisible. The above library requirements pull in the necessary compiler and linker flags from the “package config” universe. (It also means that the libext2fs headers are augmented by the libe2p and libet headers, as defined in the required libraries for libext2fs itself.)

As always, deploying requires a suitable configuration description and a list of modules to be deployed. The former looks like this:

local L4 = require("L4");

local l = L4.default_loader;

l:startv({
    log = { "ext2fstest", "g" },
  },
  "rom/ex_ext2fstest", "rom/ext2fstest.fs", "/");

The interesting part is right at the end: a program called ex_ext2fstest is run with two arguments: the name of a file containing a filesystem image, and the directory inside that image that we want the program to show us. Here, we will be using the built-in “rom” filesystem in L4Re to serve up the data that we will be decoding with libext2fs in the program. In effect, we use one filesystem to bootstrap access to another!

Since the “rom” filesystem is merely a way of exposing modules as files, the filesystem image therefore needs to be made available as a module in the module list provided in the conf/modules.list file, the appropriate section starting off like this:

entry ext2fstest
roottask moe rom/ext2fstest.cfg
module ext2fstest.cfg
module ext2fstest.fs
module l4re
module ned
module ex_ext2fstest
# plus lots of library modules

All these experiments are being conducted with L4Re running on the UX configuration of Fiasco.OC, meaning that the system runs on top of GNU/Linux: a sort of “user mode L4”. Running the set of modules for the above test is a matter of running something like this:

make O=mybuild ux E=ext2fstest

This produces a lot of output and then some “logged” output for the test program:

ext2fste| Opened rom/ext2fstest.fs.
ext2fste| /
ext2fste| drwxr-xr-x-       0     0        1024 .
ext2fste| drwxr-xr-x-       0     0        1024 ..
ext2fste| drwx-------       0     0       12288 lost+found
ext2fste| -rw-r--r---    1000  1000       11449 e2access.c
ext2fste| -rw-r--r---    1000  1000        1768 file.c
ext2fste| -rw-r--r---    1000  1000        1221 format.c
ext2fste| -rw-r--r---    1000  1000        6504 image.c
ext2fste| -rw-r--r---    1000  1000        1510 path.c

It really isn’t much to look at, but this indicates that we have managed to access an ext2 filesystem within L4Re using a program that calls the libext2fs library functions. If nothing else, the possibility of porting a library to L4Re and using it has been demonstrated.

But we want to do more than that, of course. The next step is to provide access to an ext2 filesystem via a general interface that hides the specific nature of the filesystem, one that separates the work into a different program from those wanting to access files. To do so involves integrating this effort into my existing filesystem framework, then attempting to re-use a generic file-accessing program to obtain its data from ext2-resident files. Such activities will probably form the basis of the next article on this topic.

Well, after my last article moaning about having wishes and goals while ignoring the preconditions for, and contributing factors in, the realisation of such wishes and goals, I thought I might as well be constructive and post some ideas I could imagine working on this year. It would be a bonus to get paid to work on such things, but I don’t hold out too much hope in that regard.

In a way, this is to make up for not writing an article summarising what I managed to look at in 2018. But then again, it can be a bit wearing to have to read through people’s catalogues of work even if I do try and make my own more approachable and not just list tons of work items, which is what one tends to see on a monthly basis in other channels.

In any case, 2018 saw a fair amount of personal focus on the L4Re ecosystem, as one can tell from looking at my article history. Having dabbled with L4Re and Fiasco.OC a bit in 2017 with the MIPS Creator CI20, I finally confronted certain aspects of the software and got it working on various devices, which had been something of an ambition for at least a couple of years. I also got back into looking at PIC32 hardware and software experiments, tidying up and building on earlier work, and I keep nudging along my Python-like language and toolchain, Lichen.

Anyway, here are a few ideas I have been having for supporting a general strategy of building flexible, sustainable and secure computing environments that respect the end-user. Such respect not being limited to software freedom, but also extending to things like privacy, affordability and longevity that are often disregarded in the narrow focus on only one set of end-user rights.

Building a General-Purpose System with L4Re

Apart from writing unfinished articles about supporting hardware devices on the Ben NanoNote and Letux 400, I also spent some time last year considering the mechanisms supporting filesystems in L4Re. For an outsider like myself, the picture isn’t particularly clear, but the mechanisms don’t really seem particularly well documented, and I am not convinced that the filesystem support is what people might expect from a microkernel-based system.

Like L4Re’s device support, the way filesystems are made available to tasks appears to use libraries extensively, whereas I would expect more use of individual programs, with interprocess messages and shared memory being employed to move the data around. To evaluate my expectations, I have been writing programs that operate in such a way, employing a “toy” filesystem to test the viability of such an approach. The plan is to make use of libext2fs to expose ext2/3/4 filesystems to L4Re components, then to try and replace the existing file access mechanisms with ones that access these file-serving components.

It is unfortunate that systems like these no longer seem to get much attention from the wider Free Software community. There was once a project to port GNU Hurd to L4-family microkernels, but with the state of the art having seemingly been regarded as insufficient or inappropriate, the focus drifted off onto other things, and now there doesn’t seem to be much appetite to resume such work. Even the existing Hurd implementation doesn’t get that much interest these days, either. And yet there are plenty of technical, social and practical reasons for not just settling for using the Linux kernel and systems based on it for every last application and device.

Extending Hardware Support within L4Re

It is all very well developing filesystem support, but there also has to be support for the things that provide the storage on which those filesystems reside. This is something I didn’t bother to look at when getting L4Re working on various devices because the priority was to have something to show, meaning that the display had to work, along with testing and demonstrating other well-understood peripherals, with the keyboard or keypad being something that could be supported with relative ease and then used to demonstrate other aspects of the solution.

It seems perverse that one must implement support for SD or microSD card storage all over again when the software being run is already being loaded from such storage, but this is rather like the way that “live CD” versions of GNU/Linux would load an environment directly from a CD, yet an installed version of such an environment might not have the capability to access the CD drive. Still, this is an unavoidable step along the path to make a practical system.

It might also be nice to make the CI20 support a bit better. Although a device notionally supported by L4Re, various missing pieces of hardware support needed to be added, and the HDMI output capability remains unavailable. Here, the mystery hardware left undocumented by the datasheet happens to be used in other chipsets and has been supported in the Linux kernel for many of them for quite some time. Hopefully, the exercise will not be too frustrating.

Another device that might be a good candidate for L4Re is the Efika MX Smartbook. Although having a modest specification by today’s bloated-Web and pointless-eye-candy standards, it has a nice keyboard (with a more sensible layout than the irritating HP Elitebook, as I recently discovered) and is several times more powerful than the Letux 400. My brother, David, has already investigated certain aspects of the hardware, and it might make the basis of a nice portable system. And since support in Linux and other more commonly-used technologies has been left to rot, why not look into developing a more lasting alternative?

Reviving Mail-Based Communication

It is tiresome to see the continuing neglect of the health of e-mail, despite it being used as the bedrock of the Internet’s activities, while proprietary and predatory social media platforms enjoy undeserved attention and promotion in mass media and in society at large. Governmental and corporate negligence mean that the average person is subjected to an array of undesirable, disturbing and generally unwanted communications from chancers and criminals through their e-mail accounts which, if it had ever happened to the same degree with postal mail, would have seen people routinely arrested and convicted for their activities.

It is tempting to think that “they” do not want “us” to have a more reliable form of mail-based communication because that would involve things like encryption and digital signatures. Even when these things are deemed necessary, they always seem to be rolled out as part of a special service that hosts “our” encryption and signing keys for us, through which we must go to access our messages. It is, I suppose, yet another example of the abandonment of common infrastructure: that when something better is needed, effort and attention is siphoned off from the “commons” and ploughed into something separate that might make someone a bit of money.

There are certainly challenges involved in making e-mail better, with any discussion of managing identities, vouching for and recognising correspondents, and the management of keys most likely to lead to dispute about the “best” way of doing things. But in the end, we probably find ourselves pursuing perfect solutions that do everything whilst proprietary competitors just focus on doing a handful of things effectively. So I envisage turning this around and evaluating whether a more limited form of mail-based communication can be done in the way that most people would need.

I did look fairly recently at a selection of different projects seeking to advise and support people on providing their own e-mail infrastructure. That is perhaps worth an article in its own right. And on the subject of mail-based communication, I hope to look a bit more at imip-agent again after neglecting it for so long.

Sustaining a Python Alternative

One motivation for developing my Python-like language and toolchain, Lichen, was to explore ways in which Python might have been developed to better suit my own needs and preferences. Although I still use Python extensively, I remain mindful of the need to write conservative, uncomplicated code without the kind of needless tricks and flourishes that Python’s expanding feature set can tempt the developer with, and thus I almost always consider the possibility of being able to use the Lichen toolchain with my projects one day.

Lichen may still be a proof of concept, but there has been work done on gradually pushing it towards being genuinely usable. I spent some time considering the way floating point numbers might be represented, and this raised some interesting issues around how they might be stored within instances. Like the tuple performance optimisations, I hope to introduce floating point support into the established feature set of Lichen and hopefully offer decent-enough performance, with the latter aspect being yet another path of investigation this year.

Documenting and Publishing

A continuing worry I have is whether I should still be running MoinMoin sites or even sites derived from MoinMoin “export dumps” for published information that is merely static. I have spent some time developing a parsing and formatting tool to generate static content from Moin content, thus avoiding running Moin altogether and also avoiding having to run a script acting as a URL-preserving front-end to exported Moin content (which is unfortunately required because of how the “export dump” seems to work).

Currently, this tool supports HTML and Moin output, the latter to test the parsing activity, with Graphviz content rendered as inline SVG or in other supported formats (although inline SVG is really what you want). Some macros are supported, but I need to add support for others, like the search macros which are useful for generating page listings. Themes are also supported, but I need to make sure that things like tables of contents – already supported with a macro – can be styled appropriately.

Already, I can generate the bulk of my existing project documentation, and the aim here is to be able to focus on improving that documentation, particularly for things like Lichen that really need explanations to be written before I need to start reviewing the code from scratch as if I were a total newcomer to the work. I have also considered using this tool as the basis for a decentralised wiki solution, but that can probably wait for a while given how many other things I have said I want to do!

Anything More?

There are probably other things that are worth looking at, but these are perhaps the ones I feel are most pressing. It could be said that pursuing all these at once would spread me and my efforts very thin, but I tend to cycle through projects periodically and hope that I can catch up with what I was previously doing, hence the mention above of documenting my work.

I wonder how much other people think about the year ahead, whether it is a productive and ultimately rewarding exercise to state aspirations and goals in this kind of way. New Year’s resolutions are a familiar practice, of course, but here I make no promises!

Nevertheless, a belated Happy New Year to anyone still reading! I hope we can all pursue our objectives enthusiastically over the year ahead and make a real and positive difference to computing, its users and to our societies.

I keep starting articles but not finishing them. However, after responding to some correspondence recently, where I got into a minor rant about a particular topic, I thought about starting this article and more or less airing the rant for a wider audience. I don’t intend to be negative here, so even if this sounds like me having a moan about how things are, I really do want to see positive and constructive things happen to remedy what I see as deficiencies in the way people go about promoting and supporting Free Software.

The original topic of the correspondence was my brother’s article about submitting “apps” to F-Droid, the Free Software application repository for Android, which somehow got misattributed to me in the FSFE newsletter. As anyone who knows both of us can imagine, it is not particularly unusual that people mix us up, but it does still surprise me how people can be fluid about other people’s names and assume that two people with the same family name are the same person.

Eventually, the correction was made, for which I am grateful, and it must be said that I do also appreciate the effort that goes into writing the newsletter. Having previously had the task of doing some of the Fellowship interviews, I know that such things require more work than people might think, largely go either unnoticed or unremarked, and as a participant in the process it can be easy to wonder afterwards if it was worth the bother. I do actually follow the FSFE Planet and the discussion mailing list, so I’d like to think that I keep up with what other people do, but the newsletter must have some value to those who don’t want to follow a range of channels.

A Rant about Free Software on Mobile

Well, it wasn’t as much of a rant as it was a moan about how there doesn’t seem to be a coherent strategy about Free Software on mobile devices. The FSFE has had some kind of campaign about Android for quite some time. What it amounts to is promoting Free Software applications and Free Software distributions on phones.

This probably isn’t significantly different from the activities promoted by the FSF, whose Defective By Design campaign features a gift guide promoting phones that run Free Software. The FSF also promotes and funds the Replicant project, more of which below.

For all I know, the situation about getting Free Software applications onto a phone probably isn’t all that dire, assuming that Google and phone vendors don’t try and prevent users from installing software that isn’t delivered via Google Play or other officially-sanctioned channels. Or as the Android documentation puts it:

Of course, this is rather reminiscent of the “bad old days” where some people could copy things on and off their phone using Bluetooth (or for those with particularly long memories, infrared communication) whereas others had those features disabled by their provider. So, while some people get to enjoy the benefits of Free Software, others are denied them: another case of divide-and-rule in action, I suppose.

But it is the situation about Free Software distributions, more specifically having a Free Software operating system with Free Software device drivers and Free Software firmware, that is most worrying. The FSFE campaign points people to the two enduring initiatives for putting a different kind of Android distribution on phones: Replicant and LineageOS (previously CyanogenMod).

While LineageOS seems to try and support as many devices as possible, it relies on non-free software to support device hardware. Meanwhile, Replicant employs only Free Software and is therefore limited in which devices it may support and to what extent those device’s features will function.

Although I can’t really muster much enthusiasm for Android and its derivatives, I don’t think there is anything wrong with trying to provide a completely Free Software distribution of that software. Certainly, there will always be challenges with the evolution of the upstream code, being steered this way and that by its corporate parent for maximum corporate benefit, but this isn’t really much different to clinging on to the pace of change (and churn) in an openly-developed project like the Linux kernel.

But ultimately, these initiatives will always be reacting to what other people, specifically those working for large companies, have decided to do. It will always be about chasing the latest release of the upstream software and making it acceptable for a Free Software audience. And it will always be about seeing whether the latest devices can be supported or not and then trying to figure out how. And this is where most people start to wonder why things always have to be like this, spurring my rant.

For the Long Term

To be fair to the FSFE’s Android-related campaign, the advice given does give people some concrete activities to consider: it isn’t simply the “go out and write code” battle cry that sometimes drifts through the air after an acrimonious episode where nobody can agree with each other. Helping F-Droid get more applications published, writing more Free Software applications, helping the operating system projects with their efforts: these are all worthwhile things for people to do.

But we only need look at the FSF’s ethical gift guide to see the severe challenges being faced over the longer term. For yet another year, the only offerings are older, refurbished Samsung smartphones, the most recent being the Galaxy S3 and Galaxy Note 2 from 2012. Now, there is nothing wrong with older hardware or refurbished devices. After all, I have written about older and much less powerful hardware than that which I believe still should have a place in modern life.

Nor should people regard the price of such refurbished units as particularly expensive. Of course you can buy a new phone with better specifications for the same or even less, but that new phone won’t be running only Free Software. Yes, there is always the Fairphone whose creators’ grip on Free Software, software longevity and other matters that weren’t confronted in the beginning is supposedly now rather better, although the hardware drivers remain non-free, so it isn’t really comparable, either.

Here, it is illustrative to consider community-originating efforts to develop smartphones, particularly since there is a perception that such efforts eventually end up pitching “expensive” and “underpowered” devices that “aren’t competitive”. There are obviously a collection of such initiatives ongoing at any given point, but ignoring random crowdfunding campaigns and corporate publicity stunts, we might usefully focus on some more familiar projects: the GTA04 successor to the Openmoko FreeRunner and the Neo900 successor to the Nokia N900.

Both of these projects are in a not-easily-explained state. The GTA04 device was made in a number of incrementally refined versions and sold primarily to people who already had a FreeRunner into which they could install the new hardware. However, difficulties with the last hardware revision meant that it was no longer viable as a product, with the cost of overcoming production problems being rather likely to exceed any money otherwise made on the units.

Meanwhile, the Neo900 project is effectively stalled having experienced several setbacks, notably the freezing of funds by PayPal for no really good reason, and difficulties in finding and retaining qualified people to do things like board layout. Although there are aspirations to get to completion, perhaps with some modification of the original goals, the path to completion remains obscure and uncertain. It is certainly hard to sustain my initial enthusiasm for the project, even if I do sympathise deeply with the struggles and difficulties of those trying to deliver something that they want to see succeed perhaps more than anyone else.

The future is not necessarily entirely bleak for these projects, though. Experience from the GTA04 effort may have been beneficial to the development of the Pyra handheld computer, whose own genesis has been troubled at times and yet forthrightly communicated in an honourably transparent fashion by its initiator, and the CPU board for that device may end up as the basis for a new product known as the GTA15. Given the common architectural heritage of the GTA04, N900 and Neo900, it would not be completely inconceivable that if some kind of way forward could be found for the Neo900, GTA15 might be some kind of contributing element to that.

What these projects should illustrate, however, is that the foundations of a Free Software mobile device are difficult to prepare, subject to sudden and potentially catastrophic setbacks or outright failure, and they require persistence and plenty of resources, not least of the financial kind but also the dedication of people with the right competence and experience. Sadly, these projects never get the attention, the recognition, or the generosity they deserve.

Seeing the Bigger Picture

If we care about being able to support all the different elements of our phones with Free Software, instead of crossing out items in the specification list, sacrificing functionality because nobody knows how it works without signing a non-disclosure agreement and then only being allowed to release a binary blob for loading into specific Linux kernel versions, then we need to be there at the start, when the phone gets designed, and play a role in making sure that everything can be supported by Free Software. Spending time and effort on figuring out someone else’s hardware is not time and effort well spent.

Indeed, from the moment a proprietary product gets into the hands of developers, the clock is ticking. Already, given the pace of product development and shipment, the product is heading for obsolescence and its manufacturer will be tooling up to make its successor. Even if downstream developers work quickly and get as much of the hardware supported as they can, there will be only be a certain period before the product becomes difficult to obtain. And then the process of catch-up starts all over again with the next product.

Of course, product variations always used to happen with desktop and laptop computers. One day you’d get a laptop with one chipset and the next day the “same” laptop would contain something else. The only thing that eased the pain involved was broad hardware support for these kinds of devices, and even then there would be chipsets notorious for their lack of support in things like the Linux kernel.

Such pitfalls cultivated demands for products that could run Free Software and be supplied with such software instead of the usual proprietary products bundled as a consequence of Microsoft’s anticompetitive and coercive business practices. It was no longer enough to accept that we might buy a computer with bundled software and “install over it”, that this might emphasise our Free Software credentials. Credible advocates of Free Software have sought to identify vendors offering systems that are either already supplied with Free Software or that come without any preinstalled software at all, in both cases being fully capable of supporting a Free Software distribution.

But we now find ourselves in the absurd situation with mobile devices where remedial measures comparable to “install over it” are almost the only things people can suggest, that there really aren’t any mobile device vendors who can offer a bare, supportable device or one that is, say, already running Replicant and offering access to all of the device’s features. And although refurbished devices are sold that may run Replicant well enough, we lack another essential guarantee that may not have been so important in the past, one that community-originating hardware projects might be able to help with.

In being involved with the design of these devices, we can seek to dictate how long they remain viable. Instead of having a large corporation decide that now is the time for you to buy their next device and that the product you bought and liked is now deliberately unavailable, we can seek to keep making devices as long as they have a role and have people wanting to keep using them.

If something runs a Free Software distribution well enough, and if that device can still be made, it becomes a safe choice and something we can recommend to others. At last, we get some kind of certainty in a world whose stream of continual change is often fad-driven, exploitative and needless.

The Strategic Vacuum

So it seems obvious to me that if people want Free Software on phones, they need to cultivate the efforts to make that Free Software viable, which means cultivating sustainable hardware design and actually promoting and supporting the projects pursuing it. Otherwise, it is like trying to plant an orchard without paying attention to the soil, cursing that the trees will not grow whilst being oblivious to the fact that the ground is concrete.

And this goes beyond this particular domain. Free Software advocacy is all well and good, but there needs to be practical action that goes beyond pitching in and nudging things towards success. It is wonderful that collective effort and collaboration can take small endeavours and grow them into solutions that are useful for many, but it can be too much to expect everything to just coalesce as if by magic, that people and projects will just discover each other, work together, strengthen each other and multiply the benefits.

There needs to be a strategy, for people to identify real-world problems that are not being addressed by Free Software, to identify the projects that might be applied to those problems, and to propose actual solutions. In the absence of Free Software, proprietary and exploitative solutions are able to stake out their territory, entrench themselves and to thrive.

Here, I struggle to see which Free Software organisations have both the breadth of scope and the depth of focus to make a difference. Developer-driven organisations like Debian and KDE have a lot going on, and they deliver non-trivial software systems, and yet sustaining something like a viable mobile platform (encompassing hardware and software) is seemingly beyond their reach. Neither have a coherent answer to other significant challenges of our time, such as the dominance of proprietary (and destructive) communications platforms.

Meanwhile, advocacy-driven organisations like the FSFE merely give advice to people about how they might help Free Software. The FSF arguably combines this with actual development through the GNU project, and there are those lists of urgent activities, but one cannot help but have the impression that the urgency is reactive and not the product of strategic vision (beyond the goal of the proliferation of Free Software, of course). I would like to think that the Software Freedom Conservancy might combine things more effectively, but it perhaps remains more of an umbrella organisation with a similar emphasis on broad Free Software adoption.

I would like to think that the step of getting involved in Free Software is but the first step towards fairer, kinder, more transparent, more productive and more sustainable societies. Traces of such visions can be seen in the communications of various organisations and yet they largely hold back from suggesting what the next steps might be. And yet, I think, we will in future really need to take those steps in order to protect ourselves, our societies, and the things we care about.

In general, we notice the absence of strategy; in specific cases, we notice it keenly. Which organisations are willing and able to fill this strategic void coherently and decisively, to offer concrete solutions as opposed to suggestions, to have something definite to work towards, and to direct effort and resources into actually realising such goals? Surely, in this age of hoping for the best, those organisations will be the ones that deserve our support the most.

Maybe some people like to see others attempting unusual challenges, things that wouldn’t normally be seen as productive, sensible or a good way to spend time and energy, things that shouldn’t be possible or viable but were nevertheless made to work somehow. And maybe they like the idea of indulging their own curiosity in such things, knowing that for potential future experiments of their own there is a route already mapped out to some kind of success. That might explain why my project to produce a VGA-compatible analogue video signal from a PIC32 microcontroller seems to attract more feedback than some of my other, arguably more useful or deserving, projects.

Nevertheless, I was recently contacted by different people inquiring about my earlier experiments. One was admittedly only interested in using Free Software tools to port his own software to the MIPS-based PIC32 products, and I tried to give some advice about navigating the documentation and to describe some of the issues I had encountered. Another was more concerned with the actual signal generation aspect of the earlier project and the usability of the end result. Previously, I had also had a conversation with someone looking to use such techniques for his project, and although he ended up choosing a different approach, the cumulative effect of my discussions with him and these more recent correspondents persuaded me to take another look at my earlier work and to see if I couldn’t answer some of the questions I had received more definitively.

Picking Over the Pieces

I was already rather aware of some of the demonstrated and potential limitations of my earlier work, these being concerned with generating a decent picture, and although I had attempted to improve the work on previous occasions, I think I just ran out of energy and patience to properly investigate other techniques. The following things were bothersome or a source of concern:

• The unevenly sized pixels
• The process of experimentation with the existing code
• Whether the microcontroller could really do other things while displaying the picture

Although one of my correspondents was very complimentary about the form of my assembly language code, I rather felt that it was holding me back, making me focus on details that should be abstracted away. It should be said that MIPS assembly language is fairly pleasant to write, at least in comparison to certain other architectures.

(I was brought up on 6502 assembly language, where there is an “accumulator” that is the only thing even approaching a general-purpose register in function, and where instructions need to combine this accumulator with other, more limited, registers to do things like accessing “zero page”: an area of memory that supports certain kinds of operations by providing the contents of locations as inputs. Everything needs to be meticulously planned, and despite odd claims that “zero page” is really one big register file and that 6502 is therefore “RISC-like”, the existence of virtual machines such as SWEET16 say rather a lot about how RISC-like the 6502 actually is. Later, I learned ARM assembly language and found it rather liberating with its general-purpose registers and uncomplicated, rather easier to use, memory access instructions. Certain things are even simpler in MIPS assembly language, whereas other conveniences from ARM are absent and demand a bit more effort from the programmer.)

Anyway, I had previously introduced functionality in C in my earlier work, mostly because I didn’t want the challenge of writing graphics routines in assembly language. So with the need to more easily experiment with different peripheral configurations, I decided to migrate the remaining functionality to C, leaving only the lowest-level routines concerned with booting and exception/interrupt handling in assembly language. This effort took me to some frustrating places, making me deal with things like linker scripts and the kind of memory initialisation that one’s compiler usually does for you but which is absent when targeting a “bare metal” environment. I shall spare you those details in this article.

I therefore spent a certain amount of effort in developing some C library functionality for dealing with the hardware. It could be said that I might have used existing libraries instead, but ignoring Microchip’s libraries that will either be proprietary or the subject of numerous complaints by those unwilling to leave that company’s “ecosystem”, I rather felt that the exercise in library design would be useful in getting reacquainted and providing me with something I would actually want to use. An important goal was minimalism, whereas my impression of libraries such as those provided by the Pinguino effort are that they try and bridge the different PIC hardware platforms and consequently accumulate features and details that do not really interest me.

The Wide Pixel Problem

One thing that had bothered me when demonstrating a VGA signal was that the displayed images featured “wide” pixels. These are not always noticeable: one of my correspondents told me that he couldn’t see them in one of my example pictures, but they are almost certainly present because they are a feature of the mechanism used to generate the signal. Here is a crop from the example in question:

Picture detail from VGAPIC32 output

And here is the same crop with the wide pixels highlighted:

Picture detail with wide pixels highlighted

I have left the identification of all wide pixel columns to the reader! Nevertheless, it can be stated that these pixels occur in every fourth column and are especially noticeable with things like text, where at such low resolutions, the doubling of pixel widths becomes rather obvious and annoying.

Quite why this increase in pixel width was occurring became a matter I wanted to investigate. As you may recall, the technique I used to output pixels involved getting the direct memory access (DMA) controller in the PIC32 chip to “copy” the contents of memory to a hardware register corresponding to output pins. The signals from these pins were sent along the cable to the monitor. And the DMA controller was transferring data as fast as it could and thus producing pixel colours as fast as it could.

An overview of the architecture for pixel output using DMA transfer

One of my correspondents looked into the matter and confirmed that we were not imagining this problem, even employing an oscilloscope to check what was happening with the signals from the output pins. The DMA controller would, after starting each fourth pixel, somehow not be able to produce the next pixel in a timely fashion, leaving the current pixel colour unchanged as the monitor traced the picture across the screen. This would cause these pixels to “stretch” until the first pixel from the next group could be emitted.

Initially, I had thought that interrupts were occurring and the CPU, in responding to interrupt conditions and needing to read instructions, was gaining priority over the DMA controller and forcing pixel transfers to wait. Although I had specified a “cell size” of 160 bytes, corresponding to 160 pixels, I was aware that the architecture of the system would be dividing data up into four-byte “words”, and it would be natural at certain points for accesses to memory to be broken up and scheduled in terms of such units. I had therefore wanted to accommodate both the CPU and DMA using an approach where the DMA would not try and transfer everything at once, but without the energy to get this to work, I had left the matter to rest.

A Steady Rhythm

The documentation for these microcontrollers distinguishes between block and cell transfers when describing DMA. Previously, I had noted that these terms could be better described, and I think there are people who are under the impression that cells must be very limited in size and that you need to drive repeated cell transfers using various interrupt conditions to transfer larger amounts. We have seen that this is not the case: a single, large cell transfer is entirely possible, even though the characteristics of the transfer have been less than desirable. (Nevertheless, the documentation focuses on things like copying from one UART peripheral to another, arguably failing to explore the range of possible applications for DMA and to thereby elucidate the mechanisms involved.)

However, given the wide pixel effect, it becomes more interesting to introduce a steady rhythm by using smaller cell sizes and having an external event coordinate each cell’s transfer. With a single, large transfer, only one initiation event needs to occur: that produced by the timer whose period corresponds to that of a single horizontal “scanline”. The DMA channel producing pixels then runs to completion and triggers another channel to turn off the pixel output. In this scheme, the initiating condition for the cell transfer is the timer.

The structure of each visible display line in the VGA signal

When using multiple cells to transfer the pixel data, however, it is no longer possible to use the timer in this way. Doing so would cause the initiation of the first cell, but then subsequent cells would only be transferred on subsequent timer events. And since these events only occur once per scanline, this would see a single line’s pixel data being transferred over many scanlines instead (or, since the DMA channel would be updated regularly, we would see only the first pixel on each line being emitted, stretched across the entire line). Since the DMA mechanism apparently does not permit one kind of interrupt condition to enable a channel and another to initiate each cell transfer, we must be slightly more creative.

Fortunately, the solution is to chain two channels, just as we already do with the pixel-producing channel and the one that resets the output. A channel is dedicated to waiting for the line timer event, and it transfers a single black pixel to the screen before handing over to the pixel-producing channel. This channel, now enabled, has its cell transfers regulated by another interrupt condition and proceeds as fast as such a condition may occur. Finally, the reset channel takes over and turns off the output as before.

An overview of the architecture for pixel output using timed DMA transfers

The nature of the cell transfer interrupt can take various forms, but it is arguably most intuitive to use another timer for this purpose. We may set the limit of such a timer to 1, indicating that it may “wrap around” and thus produce an event almost continuously. And by configuring it to run as quickly as possible, at the frequency of the peripheral clock, it may drive cell transfers at a rate that is quick enough to hopefully produce enough pixels whilst also allowing other activities to occur between each transfer.

Using a timer to initiate pixel transfers for the VGA signal

One thing is worth mentioning here just to be explicit about the mechanisms involved. When configuring interrupts that are used for DMA transfers, it is the actual condition that matters, not the interrupt nor the delivery of the interrupt request to the CPU. So, when using timer events for transfers, it appears to be sufficient to merely configure the timer; it will produce the interrupt condition upon its counter “wrapping around” regardless of whether the interrupt itself is enabled.

With a cell size of a single byte, and with a peripheral clock running at half the speed of the system clock, this approach is sufficient all by itself to yield pixels with consistent widths, with the only significant disadvantage being how few of them can be produced per line: I could only manage in the neighbourhood of 80 pixels! Making the peripheral clock run as fast as the system clock doesn’t help in theory: we actually want the CPU running faster than the transfer rate just to have a chance of doing other things. Nor does it help in practice: picture stability rather suffers.

A picture of the display output from timed DMA transfers

Using larger cell sizes, we encounter the wide pixel problem, meaning that the end of a four-byte group is encountered and the transfer hangs on for longer than it should. However, larger cell sizes also introduce byte transfers at a different rate from cell transfers (at the system clock rate) and therefore risk making the last pixel produced by a cell longer than the others, anyway.

Uncovering DMA Transfers

I rather suspect that interruptions are not really responsible for the wide pixels at all, and that it is the DMA controller that causes them. Some discussion with another correspondent explored how the controller might be operating, with transfers perhaps looking something like this:

DMA read from memory
DMA write to display (byte #1)
DMA write to display (byte #2)
DMA write to display (byte #3)
DMA write to display (byte #4)
DMA read from memory
...

This would, by itself, cause a transfer pattern like this:

R____R____R____R____R____R ...
_WWWW_WWWW_WWWW_WWWW_WWWW_ ...

And thus pixel output as follows:

41234412344123441234412344 ...
=***==***==***==***==***== ... (narrow pixels as * and wide pixel components as =)

Even without any extra operations or interruptions, we would get a gap between the write operations that would cause a wider pixel. This would only get worse if the DMA controller had to update the address of the pixel data after every four-byte read and write, not being able to do so concurrently with those operations. And if the CPU were really able to interrupt longer transfers, even to obtain a single instruction to execute, it might then compete with the DMA controller in accessing memory, making the read operations even later every time.

Assuming, then, that wide pixels are the fault of the way the DMA controller works, we might consider how we might want it to work instead:

                     | ...
DMA read from memory | DMA write to display (byte #4)
                 \-> | DMA write to display (byte #1)
                     | DMA write to display (byte #2)
                     | DMA write to display (byte #3)
DMA read from memory | DMA write to display (byte #4)
                 \-> | ...

If only pixel data could be read from memory and written to the output register (and thus the display) concurrently, we might have a continuous stream of evenly-sized pixels. Such things do not seem possible with the microcontroller I happen to be using. Either concurrent reading from memory and writing to a peripheral is not possible or the DMA controller is not able to take advantage of this concurrency. But these observations did give me another idea.

Dual Channel Transfers

If the DMA controller cannot get a single channel to read ahead and get the next four bytes, could it be persuaded to do so using two channels? The intention would be something like the following:

Channel #1:                     Channel #2:
                                ...
DMA read from memory            DMA write to display (byte #4)
DMA write to display (byte #1)
DMA write to display (byte #2)
DMA write to display (byte #3)
DMA write to display (byte #4)  DMA read from memory
                                DMA write to display (byte #1)
...                             ...

This is really nothing different from the above, functionally, but the required operations end up being assigned to different channels explicitly. We would then want these channels to cooperate, interleaving their data so that the result is the combined sequence of pixels for a line:

Channel #1: 1234    1234     ...
Channel #2:     5678    5678 ...
  Combined: 1234567812345678 ...

It would seem that channels might even cooperate within cell transfers, meaning that we can apparently schedule two long transfer cells and have the DMA controller switch between the two channels after every four bytes. Here, I wrote a short test program employing text strings and the UART peripheral to see if the microcontroller would “zip up” the strings, with the following being used for single-byte cells:

Channel #1: "Adoc gi,hlo\r"
Channel #2: "n neaan el!\n"
  Combined: "And once again, hello\r\n"

Then, seeing that it did, I decided that this had a chance of also working with pixel data. Here, every other pixel on a line needs to be presented to each channel, with the first channel being responsible for the pixels in odd-numbered positions, and the second channel being responsible for the even-numbered pixels. Since the DMA controller is unable to step through the data at address increments other than one (which may be a feature of other DMA implementations), this causes us to rearrange each line of pixel data as follows:

 Displayed pixels: 123456......7890
Rearranged pixels: 135...79246...80
                   *       *

Here, the asterisks mark the start of each channel’s data, with each channel only needing to transfer half the usual amount.

The architecture involved in employing two pixel data channels with timed transfers

The documentation does, in fact, mention that where multiple channels are active with the same priority, each one is given control in turn with the controller cycling through them repeatedly. The matter of which order they are chosen, which is important for us, seems to be dependent on various factors, only some of which I can claim to understand. For instance, I suspect that if the second channel refers to data that appears before the first channel’s data in memory, it gets scheduled first when both channels are activated. Although this is not a significant concern when just trying to produce a stable picture, it does limit more advanced operations such as horizontal scrolling.

A picture of the display output from timed, dual-channel DMA transfers

As you can see, trying this technique out with timed transfers actually made a difference. Instead of only managing something approaching 80 pixels across the screen, more than 90 can be accommodated. Meanwhile, experiments with transfers going as fast as possible seemed to make no real difference, and the fourth pixel in each group was still wider than the others. Still, making the timed transfer mode more usable is a small victory worth having, I suppose.

Parallel Mode Revisited

At the start of my interest in this project, I had it in my mind that I would couple DMA transfers with the parallel mode (or Parallel Master Port) functionality in order to generate a VGA signal. Certain aspects of this, particularly gaps between pixels, made me less than enthusiastic about the approach. However, in considering what might be done to the output signal in other situations, I had contemplated the use of a flip-flop to hold output stable according to a regular tempo, rather like what I managed to achieve, almost inadvertently, when introducing a transfer timer. Until recently, I had failed to apply this idea to where it made most sense: in regulating the parallel mode signal.

Since parallel mode is really intended for driving memory devices and display controllers, various control signals are exposed via pins that can tell these external devices that data is available for their consumption. For our purposes, a flip-flop is just like a memory device: it retains the input values sampled by its input pins, and then exposes these values on its output pins when the inputs are “clocked” into memory using a “clock pulse” signal. The parallel mode peripheral in the microcontroller offers various different signals for such clock and selection pulse purposes.

The parallel mode circuit showing connections relevant to VGA output (generic connections are not shown)

Employing the PMWR (parallel mode write) signal as the clock pulse, directing the display signals to the flip-flop’s inputs, and routing the flip-flop’s outputs to the VGA circuit solved the pixel gap problem at a stroke. Unfortunately, it merely reminded us that the wide pixel problem also affects parallel mode output, too. Although the clock pulse is able to tell an external component about the availability of a new pixel value, it is up to the external component to regulate the appearance of each pixel. A memory device does not care about the timing of incoming data as long as it knows when such data has arrived, and so such regulation is beyond the capabilities of a flip-flop.

It was observed, however, that since each group of pixels is generated at a regular frequency, the PMWR signalling frequency might be reduced by being scaled by a constant factor. This might allow some pixel data to linger slightly longer in the flip-flop and be slightly stretched. By the time the fourth pixel in a group arrives, the time allocated to that pixel would be the same as those preceding it, thus producing consistently-sized pixels. I imagine that a factor of 8/9 might do the trick, but I haven’t considered what modification to the circuit might be needed or whether it would all be too complicated.

Recognising the Obvious

When people normally experiment with video signals from microcontrollers, one tends to see people writing code to run as efficiently as is absolutely possible – using assembly language if necessary – to generate the video signal. It may only be those of us using microcontrollers with DMA peripherals who want to try and get the DMA hardware to do the heavy lifting. Indeed, those of us with exposure to display peripherals provided by system-on-a-chip solutions feel almost obliged to do things this way.

But recent discussions with one of my correspondents made me reconsider whether an adequate solution might be achieved by just getting the CPU to do the work of transferring pixel data to the display. Previously, another correspondent had indicated that it this was potentially tricky, and that getting the timings right was more difficult than letting the hardware synchronise the different mechanisms – timer and DMA – all by itself. By involving the CPU and making it run code, the display line timer would need to generate an interrupt that would be handled, causing the CPU to start running a loop to copy data from the framebuffer to the output port.

An overview of the architecture with the CPU driving transfers of pixel data

This approach puts us at the mercy of how the CPU handles and dispatches interrupts. Being somewhat conservative about the mechanisms more generally available on various MIPS-based products, I tend to choose a single interrupt vector and then test for the different conditions. Since we need as little variation as possible in the latency between a timer event occurring and the pixel data being generated, I test for that particular event before even considering anything else. Then, a loop of the following form is performed:

    for (current = line_data; current < end; current++)
        *output_port = *current;

Here, the line data is copied byte by byte to the output port. Some adornments are necessary to persuade the compiler to generate code that writes the data efficiently and in order, but there is nothing particularly exotic required and GCC does a decent job of doing what we want. After the loop, a black/reset pixel is generated to set the appropriate output level.

One concern that one might have about using the CPU for such long transfers in an interrupt handler is that it ties up the CPU, preventing it from doing other things, and it also prevents other interrupt requests from being serviced. In a system performing a limited range of activities, this can be acceptable: there may be little else going on apart from updating the display and running programs that access the display; even when other activities are incorporated, they may accommodate being relegated to a secondary status, or they may instead take priority over the display in a way that may produce picture distortion but only very occasionally.

Many of these considerations applied to systems of an earlier era. Thinking back to computers like the Acorn Electron – a 6502-based system that formed the basis of my first sustained experiences with computing – it employs a display controller that demands access to the computer’s RAM for a certain amount of the time dedicated to each video frame. The CPU is often slowed down or even paused during periods of this display controller’s activity, making programs slower than they otherwise would be, and making some kinds of input and output slightly less reliable under certain circumstances. Nevertheless, with certain kinds of additional hardware, the possibility is present for such hardware to interrupt the CPU and to override the display controller that would then produce “snow” or noise on the screen as a consquence of this high-priority interruption.

Such issues cause us to consider the role of the DMA controller in our modern experiment. We might well worry about loading the CPU with lots of work, preventing it from doing other things, but what if the DMA controller dominates the system in such a way that it effectively prevents the CPU from doing anything productive anyway? This would be rather similar to what happens with the Electron and its display controller.

So, evaluating a CPU-driven solution seems to be worthwhile just to see whether it produces an acceptable picture and whether it causes unacceptable performance degradation. My recent correspondence also brought up the assertion that the RAM and flash memory provided by PIC32 microcontrollers can be accessed concurrently. This would actually mitigate contention between DMA and any programs running from flash memory, at least until the point that accesses to RAM needed to be performed by those programs, meaning that we might expect some loss of program performance by shifting the transfer burden to the CPU.

(Again, I am reminded of the Electron whose ROM could be accessed at full speed but whose RAM could only be accessed at half speed by the CPU but at full speed by the display controller. This might have been exploited by software running from ROM, or by a special kind of RAM installed and made available at the right place in memory, but the 6502 favours those zero-page instructions mentioned earlier, forcing RAM access and thus contention with the display controller. There were upgrades to mitigate this by providing some dedicated memory for zero page, but all of this is really another story for another time.)

Ultimately, having accepted that the compiler would produce good-enough code and that I didn’t need to try more exotic things with assembly language, I managed to produce a stable picture.

A picture of the display output from CPU-driven pixel data transfers

Maybe I should have taken this obvious path from the very beginning. However, the presence of DMA support would have eventually caused me to investigate its viability for this application, anyway. And it should be said that the performance differences between the CPU-based approach and the DMA-based approaches might be significant enough to argue in favour of the use of DMA for some purposes.

Observations and Conclusions

What started out as a quick review of my earlier work turned out to be a more thorough study of different techniques and approaches. I managed to get timed transfers functioning, revisited parallel mode and made it work in a fairly acceptable way, and I discovered some optimisations that help to make certain combinations of techniques more usable. But what ultimately matters is which approaches can actually be used to produce a picture on a screen while programs are being run at the same time.

To give the CPU more to do, I decided to implement some graphical operations, mostly copying data to a framebuffer for its eventual transfer as pixels to the display. The idea was to engage the CPU in actual work whilst also exercising access to RAM. If significant contention between the CPU and DMA controller were to occur, the effects would presumably be visible on the screen, potentially making the chosen configuration unusable.

Although some approaches seem promising on paper, and they may even produce promising results when the CPU is doing little more than looping and decrementing a register to introduce a delay, these approaches may produce less than promising results under load. The picture may start to ripple and stretch, and under “real world” load, the picture may seem noisy and like a badly-tuned television (for those who remember the old days of analogue broadcast signals).

Two approaches seem to remain robust, however: the use of timed DMA transfers, and the use of the CPU to do all the transfer work. The former is limited in terms of resolution and introduces complexity around the construction of images in the framebuffer, at least if optimised as much as possible, but it seems to allow more work to occur alongside the update of the display, and the reduction in resolution also frees up RAM for other purposes for those applications that need it. Meanwhile, the latter provides the resolution we originally sought and offers a straightforward framebuffer arrangement, but it demands more effort from the CPU, slowing things down to the extent that animation practically demands double buffering and thus the allocation of even more RAM for display purposes.

But both of these seemingly viable approaches produce consistent pixel widths, which is something of a happy outcome given all the effort to try and fix that particular problem. One can envisage accommodating them both within a system given that various fundamental system properties (how fast the system and peripheral clocks are running, for example) are shared between the two approaches. Again, this is reminiscent of microcomputers where a range of display modes allowed developers and users to choose the trade-off appropriate for them.

A demonstration of text plotting at a resolution of 160x128

Having investigated techniques like hardware scrolling and sprite plotting, it is tempting to keep developing software to demonstrate the techniques described in this article. I am even tempted to design a printed circuit board to tidy up my rather cumbersome breadboard arrangement. And perhaps the library code I have written can be used as the basis for other projects.

It is remarkable that a home-made microcontroller-based solution can be versatile enough to demonstrate aspects of simple computer systems, possibly even making it relevant for those wishing to teach or to learn about such things, particularly since all the components can be connected together relatively easily, with only some magic happening in the microcontroller itself. And with such potential, maybe this seemingly pointless project might have some meaning and value after all!

Update

Although I can’t embed video files of any size here, I have made a “standard definition” video available to demonstrate scrolling and sprites. I hope it is entertaining and also somewhat illustrative of the kind of thing these techniques can achieve.

I recently had my attention drawn towards a blog article about the trials of Free Software development by senior Python core developer, Brett Cannon. Now, I agree with the article’s emphasis on being nice to other people, and I sympathise with those who feel that their community-related activities are wearing them down. However, I would like to point out some aspects of his article that fall rather short of my own expectations about what Free Software, or “open source” as he calls it, should be about.

I should perhaps back up a little and mention where this article was found, which was via the “Planet Python” blog aggregator site. I do not read Planet Python, either in my browser or using a feed reader, any more. Those who would create some kind of buzz or energy around Python have somehow managed to cultivate a channel where it seems that almost every post is promoting something. I might quickly and crudely categorise the posts as follows:

• “Look at our wonderful integrated development environment which is nice to Python (that is written in Java)! (But wouldn’t you rather use the Java-related language we are heavily promoting instead?)”
• Stub content featuring someone’s consulting/training/publishing business.
• Random “beginner” articles either parading the zealotry of the new convert or, of course, promoting someone’s consulting/training/publishing business.

Maybe such themes are merely a reflection of attitudes and preoccupations held amongst an influential section of the Python community, and perhaps there is something to connect those attitudes with the topics discussed below. I do recall other articles exhorting Python enthusiasts to get their name out there by doing work on “open source”, with the aim of getting some company’s attention by improving the software that company has thrown over the wall, and “Python at <insert company name>” blogging is, after all, a common Planet Python theme.

Traces of the Pachyderm

But returning to the article in question, if you read it with a Free Software perspective – that is to say that you consciously refer to “Free Software”, knowing that “open source” was coined by people who, for various reasons, wanted another term to use – then certain things seem to stand out. Most obviously, the article never seems to mention software freedom: it is all about “having fun”, attracting contributors to your projects, giving and receiving “kindnesses”, and participating in “this grand social experiment we call open source”. It is almost as if the Free Software movement and the impetus for its foundation never took place, or if it does have a place in someone’s alternative version of history, then in that false view of reality Richard Stallman was only motivated to start the GNU project because maybe he wanted to “have fun hacking a printer”.

Such omissions are less surprising if you have familiarity with attitudes amongst certain people in various Free Software communities – those typically identifying as “open source”, of course – who bear various grudges against the FSF and Richard Stallman. In the Python core development community, those grudges are sometimes related to some advice given about GPL-compatible licensing back when CPython was changing custodian and there had been concerns, apparently expressed by the entity being abandoned by the core developers, that the original “CWI licence” was not substantial enough. We might wonder whether grudges might be better directed towards those who have left CPython with its current, rather incoherent, licensing paper trail.

A Different Kind of Free

Now, as those of us familiar with the notion of Free Software should know, it is “a matter of freedom, not price”. You can very well sell Free Software, and nobody is actually obliged to distribute their Free Software works at no cost. In fact, the advice from those who formulated the very definition of Free Software is this:

Distributing free software is an opportunity to raise funds for development. Don’t waste it!

Of course, there are obligations about providing the source code for software already distributed in executable form and limitations about the fees or charges to be imposed on recipients, but these do not compel no-cost sharing, publication or distribution. Meanwhile, the Open Source Definition, for those who need an “open source” form of guidance, states the following:

The license shall not require a royalty or other fee for such sale.

This appearing, rather amusingly, in a section entitled “Free Redistribution” where “Free” apparently has the same meaning as the “Free” in Free Software: the label that the “open source” crowd were so vehemently opposed to. It is also interesting that the “Source Code” section of the definition also stipulates similar obligations to those upheld by copyleft licences.

So, in the blog article in question, it is rather interesting to see the following appear:

While open source, by definition, is monetarily free, that does not mean that the production of it is free.

Certainly, the latter part of the sentence is true, and we will return to that in a moment, but the former part is demonstrably false: the Open Source Definition states no such thing. In fact, it states that “open source” is not obliged to cost anything, which as the practitioners of logic amongst us will note is absolutely not the same thing as obliging it to always be cost-free.

Bearing the Cost

Much of the article talks about the cost of developing Free Software from the perspective of those putting in the hours to write, test, maintain and support the code. These “production” costs are acknowledged while the producers are somehow shackled to an economic model – one that is apparently misinformed, as noted above – that demands that the cost of all this work be zero to those wanting to acquire it.

So, how exactly are the production costs going to be met? One of the most useful instruments for doing so has apparently been discarded, and I imagine that a similarly misguided attitude lingers with regard to supporting Free Software produced under such misconceptions. Indeed, much of the article focuses on doing “free work”, that of responding to requests, dealing with feedback, shepherding contributions, and the resulting experience of being “stressed by strangers”.

Normally, when one hears of something of this nature taking place, when the means to live decently and to control one’s own life is being taken away from people, there is a word that springs to mind: exploitation. From what we know about certain perspectives about Free Software and “open source”, it is hardly a surprise that the word “exploitation” does not appear in the article because such words are seen by some as “political”, where “political” takes on the meaning of “something raising awkward ethical questions” that if acknowledged and addressed appropriately would actually result in people not being exploited.

But there is an ideological condition which prevents people from being “political”. According to those with such a condition, we are not supposed to embarrass those who could help us deal with the problems that trouble us because that might be “impolite”, and it might also be questioning just how they made their money, how badly they may have treated people on their way to the top, and whether personal merit had less to do with their current status than good fortune and other things that undermine the myth of their own success. We are supposed to conflate money and power with merit or to play along convincingly enough at least as long as the wallets of such potential benefactors are open.

So there is this evasion of the “political” and a pandering to those who might offer validation and maybe even some rewards for all the efforts that are being undertaken as long as their place is not challenged. And what that leaves us with is a catalogue of commiseration, where one can do no more than appeal to those in the same or similar circumstances to be nicer to each other – not a bad idea, it must be said – but where the divisive and exploitative forces at work will result in more conflict over time as people struggle even harder to keep going.

When the author writes this…

Remember, open source is done by people giving something away for free because they choose to; you could say you’re dealing with a bunch of digital hippies.

…we should also remember that “open source” is also done by people who will gladly take those things and still demand more things for free, these being people who will turn a nice profit for themselves while treating others so abominably.

Selective Sustainability

According to the article “the overall goal of open source is to attract and retain people to help maintain an open source project while enjoying the experience”. I cannot speak for those who advocate “open source”, but this stated goal is effectively orthogonal to the aim of Free Software, which is to empower users by presenting them with the means to take control of the software they use. By neglecting software freedom, the article contemplates matters of sustainability whilst ignoring crucial factors that provide the foundations of sustainability.

For instance, there seems to be some kind of distinction being drawn between Free Software projects that people are paid to work on (“corporate open source”) and those done in their own time (“community open source”). This may be a reflection of attitudes within companies: that there are some things that they may use but which, beyond “donations” and letting people spend a portion of their work time on it, they will never pay for. Maybe such software does not align entirely with the corporate goals and is therefore “something someone else can pay for”, like hospitals, schools, public services, infrastructure, and all the other things that companies of a certain size often seem to be unwilling to fund as they reduce their exposure to taxation.

Free Software, then, becomes almost like the subject of charity. Maybe the initiator of a project will get recognised and hired for complementing and enhancing a company’s proprietary product, just like the individual described in the article’s introduction whose project was picked up by the author’s employer. I find it interesting that the author notes how important people are to the sustainability of a project but then acknowledges that the project illustrating his employer’s engagement with “open source” could do just fine without other people getting involved. Nothing is said about why that might be the case.

So, with misapprehensions about whether anyone can ask for money for their Free Software work, plus cultural factors that encourage permissive licensing, “building a following” and doing things “for exposure”, and with Free Software being seen as something needing “donations”, an unsustainable market is cultivated. Those who wish to find some way of funding their activities must compete with people being misled into working for free. And it goes beyond whether people can afford the time: time is money, as they say, and the result may well be that people who have relatively little end up subsidising “gifts” for people who are substantially better off.

One may well be reminded of other exploitative trends in society where the less well-off have to sacrifice more and work harder for the causes of “productivity” and “the economy”, with the real beneficiaries being the more well-off looking to maximise their own gains and optimise their own life-enriching experiences. Such trends are generally not regarded as sustainable in any way. Ultimately, something has to give, as history may so readily remind us.

Below the Surface

It is certainly important to make sure people keep wanting to do an activity, whether that is Free Software development or anything else, but having enough people who “enjoy doing open source” is far from sufficient to genuinely sustain a Free Software project. It is certainly worthwhile investigating the issues that determine whether people derive enjoyment from such work or not, along with the issues that cause stress, dissatisfaction, disillusionment and worse.

But what good is it if no-one deals with these issues? When taking “a full month off annually from volunteering” is seen as the necessary preventative medicine to avoid “potential burnout”, and when there is even such a notion as “open source detox”, does it not indicate that the symptoms may be seeing some relief but the cause remains untreated? The author of the article seems to think that the main source of misery is the way people treat each other:

It all comes down to how people treat each other in open source.

That in itself is something of a superficial diagnosis given that some people may not experience random angry people criticising their work at all, and yet they may be dissatisfied with their situation nevertheless. Others may experience bad interactions, but these might be the result of factors that are not so readily acknowledged. I do not condone behaviour that might be offensive, let alone abusive, but when people react strongly in their interactions with others, they may be doing so as the consequence of what they perceive as ill-treatment or even a form of oppression or betrayal.

There is much talk of kindness, and I cannot exactly disagree with the recommendation that people be kind to each other. But I also have the feeling that another story is not being told, one of how people with a level of power and influence choose to discharge their responsibilities. And in the context of Python, the matter of Python 3 is never far away. People may have received the “gift” of Python, but they have invested in it, too. In a way, this goes beyond any reciprocation of a mere gift because this investment is also a form of submission to the governance of the technology, as well as a form of validation of it that persuades others of its viability and binds those others to its governance, too.

What then must someone with a substantial investment in that technology think when presented with something like the “Python 2.7 Countdown” clock? Is it a helpful tool for technological planning or a way of celebrating and trivialising disruption to widespread investment in, and commitment to, a mature technology? What about the “Python 3 Statement” with projects being encouraged to pledge to drop support for Python 2 and to deliberately not maintain any such support beyond the official “end of life” date? Is it an encouraging statement of enthusiasm or another way of passive-aggressively shaming those who would continue to use and support Python 2?

I accept that it would be unfair to demand that the Python core developers be made to continue to support Python 2. But I also think it is unfair to see destructive measures being taken to put Python 2 “beyond use”, the now-familiar campaigns of inaccurate or incorrect information to supposedly stir people into action to port their software to Python 3, the denial of the name “Python” to anyone who might step up and continue to support Python 2, the atmosphere of hostility to those who might take on that role. And, well, excuse me if I cannot really take the following statement seriously based on the strategic choices of the Python core developers:

And then there’s the fact that your change may have just made literally tons of physical books in bookstores around the world obsolete; something else I have to consider.

It is intriguing that there is an insistence that people not expect anything when they do something for the benefit of another, that “kindnesses” are more appropriate than “favours”:

I switched to using kindnesses because being kind in the cultures I’m familiar with has no expectation of something in return.

Aside from the fact that it becomes pretty demotivating to send fixes to projects and expect nothing to ever happen to them, to take an example of the article’s author, which after a while amounts to a lot of wasted time and effort, I cannot help but observe that returning the favour was precisely what the Python core developers expected when promoting Python 3. From there, one cannot help but observe that maybe there is one rule for one group and one rule for another group in the stratified realm of “open source”.

The Role of the Elephant

In developing Free Software and acknowledging it as such, we put software freedom – the elephant in this particular room – at the forefront of our efforts. Without it, as we have seen, the narrative is weaker, people’s motivations seem less convincing or unfathomable, and suggestions for improving everybody’s experience, although welcome, fail to properly grasp some of the actual causes of dissatisfaction and unhappiness. This because the usual myths of efficiency, creative exuberancy, and an idealised “gift culture” need to be conjured up to either explain people’s behaviour or to motivate it, the latter often in a deliberately exploitative way.

It is, in fact, software freedom that gives Python 2 users any hope for their plight, even though many of them may be dissatisfied and some of them may end up committing to other languages instead of Python 3 in future. By emphasising software freedom, they and others may be educated about their right to control their technological investment, and they may be reminded that in seeking assistance to exercise that control, they might be advised to pay others to sustain their investment. At no point does the narrative need to slip off into “free stuff”, “gifts” and the like.

Putting software freedom at the centre of Free Software activities might also promote a more respectful environment. When others are obliged to uphold end-user freedoms, they might already be inclined to think about how they treat other people. We have seen a lot written about interpersonal interactions, and it is right to demand that people treat each other with respect, but maybe such respect needs to be cultivated by having people think about higher goals. And maybe such respect is absent if those goals are deliberately ignored, focusing people to consider only each individual transaction in isolation and to wonder why everyone acts so selfishly.

So instead of having an environment where a company might be looking for people to do free work so that they can seal it up, sell a proprietary product to hapless end-users, treat the workers like “digital hippies”, and thus exploit everyone involved, we invoke software freedom to demand fairness and respect. A culture of respecting the rights of others should help participants realise that they have a collective responsibility, that everyone is in it together, that the well-being of others does not come at the cost of each participant’s own well-being.

I realise that some of the language used above is “political” for some, but when those who object to “political” language perpetuate ignorance of the roots of Free Software and marginalise such movements for social change, they also perpetuate a culture of exploitation, whether they have this as their deliberate goal or not. This elephant has been around for some time, and having a long memory as one might expect, it stands as a witness to the perils of neglecting the ethical imperatives for what we do as Free Software developers.

It is, of course, possible to form a more complete, more coherent picture of how Free Software development occurs and how sustainability in such endeavours might be achieved, but evidently this remains out of reach for those still wishing to pretend that there is no elephant in the room.

Recent discussions about the purpose and functioning of the FSFE have led me to consider the broader picture of what I would expect Free Software and its developers and advocates to seek to achieve in wider society. It was noted, as one might expect, that as a central component of its work the FSFE seeks to uphold the legal conditions for the use of Free Software by making sure that laws and regulations do not discriminate against Free Software licensing.

This indeed keeps the activities of Free Software developers and advocates viable in the face of selfish and anticompetitive resistance to the notions of collaboration and sharing we hold dear. Advocacy for these notions is also important to let people know what is possible with technology and to be familiar with our rich technological heritage. But it turns out that these things, although rather necessary, are not sufficient for Free Software to thrive.

Upholding End-User Freedoms

Much is rightfully made of the four software freedoms: to use, share, study and modify, and to propagate modified works. But it seems likely that the particular enumeration of these four freedoms was inspired (consciously or otherwise) by those famously stated by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in his 1941 “State of the Union” address.

Although some of Roosevelt’s freedoms are general enough to be applicable in any number of contexts (freedom of speech and freedom from want, for instance), others arguably operate on a specific level appropriate for the political discourse of the era. His freedom from fear might well be generalised to go beyond national aggression and to address the general fears and insecurities that people face in their own societies. Indeed, his freedom of worship might be incorporated into a freedom from persecution or freedom from prejudice, these latter things being specialised but logically consequent forms of a universal freedom from fear.

But what might end-users have to fear? The list is long indeed, but here we might as well make a start. They might fear surveillance, the invasion of their privacy and of being manipulated to their disadvantage, the theft of their data, their identity and their belongings, the loss of their access to technology, be that through vandalism, technological failure or obsolescence, or the needless introduction of inaccessible or unintuitive technology in the service of fad and fashion.

Using technology has always entailed encountering risks, and the four software freedoms are a way of mitigating those risks, but as technology has proliferated it would seem that additional freedoms, or additional ways of asserting these freedoms, are now required. Let us look at some areas where advocacy and policy work fail to reach all by themselves.

Cultivating Free Software Development

Advocating for decent laws and the fair treatment of Free Software is an essential part of organisations like the FSFE. But there also has to be Free Software out in the wider world to be treated fairly, and here we encounter another absent freedom. Proponents of the business-friendly interpretation of “open source” insist that Free Software happens all by itself, that somewhere someone will find the time to develop a solution that is ripe for wider application and commercialisation.

Of course, this neglects the personal experience of any person actually doing Free Software development. Even if people really are doing a lot of development work in their own time, playing out their roles precisely as cast in the “sharing economy” (which rather seems to be about wringing the last drops of productivity out of the lower tiers of the economy than anyone in the upper tiers actually participating in any “sharing”), it is rather likely that someone else is really paying their bills, maybe an employer who pays them to do something else during the day. These people squeeze their Free Software contributions in around the edges, hopefully not burning themselves out in the process.

Freedom from want, then, very much applies to Free Software development. For those who wish to do the right thing and even get paid for it, the task is to find a sympathetic employer. Some companies do indeed value Free Software enough to pay people to develop it, maybe because those companies provide such software themselves. Others may only pay people as a consequence of providing non-free software or services that neglect some of the other freedoms mentioned above. And still others may just treat Free Software as that magical resource that keeps on providing code for nothing.

Making sure that Free Software may actually be developed should be a priority for anyone seriously advocating Free Software adoption. Otherwise, it becomes a hypothetical quantity: something that could be used for serious things but might never actually be observed in such forms, easily dismissed as the work of “hobbyists” and not “professionals”, never mind that the same people can act in either capacity.

Unfortunately, there are no easy solutions to suggest for this need. It is fair to state that with a genuine “business case”, Free Software can get funded and find its audience, but that often entails a mixture of opportunism, the right connections, and an element of good fortune, as well as the mindset needed to hustle for business that many developers either do not have or do not wish to cultivate. It also assumes that all Free Software worth funding needs to have some kind of sales value, whereas much of the real value in Free Software is not to be found in things that deliver specific solutions: it is in the mundane infrastructure code that makes such solutions possible.

Respecting the User

Those of us who have persuaded others to use Free Software have not merely been doing so out of personal conviction that it is the ethically-correct thing for us and those others to use. There are often good practical reasons for using Free Software and asserting control over computing devices, even if it might make a little more work for us when things do not work as they should.

Maybe the risks of malware or experience of such unpleasantness modifies attitudes, combined with a realisation that not much help is actually to be had with supposedly familiar and convenient (and illegally bundled) proprietary software when such malevolence strikes. The very pragmatism that Free Software advocates supposedly do not have – at least if you ask an advocate for proprietary or permissively-licensed software – is, in fact, a powerful motivation for them to embrace Free Software in the first place. They realise that control is an illusion without the four software freedoms.

But the story cannot end with the user being able to theoretically exercise those freedoms. Maybe they do not have the time, skills or resources to do so. Maybe they cannot find someone to do so on their behalf, perhaps because nobody is able to make a living performing such services. And all the while, more software is written, deployed and pushed out globally. Anyone who has seen familiar user interfaces becoming distorted, degraded, unfamiliar, frustrating as time passes, shaped by some unfathomable agenda, knows that only a very well-resourced end-user would be able to swim against such an overpowering current.

To respect the user must involve going beyond acknowledging their software freedoms and also acknowledge their needs: for secure computing environments that remain familiar (even if that seems “boring”), that do not change abruptly (because someone had a brainwave in an airport lounge waiting to go to some “developer summit” or other), that allow sensible customisation that can be reconciled with upstream improvements (as opposed to imposing a “my way or the highway”, “delete your settings” ultimatum). It involves recognising their investment in the right thing, not telling them that they have to work harder, or to buy newer hardware, just to keep up.

And this also means that the Free Software movement has to provide answers beyond those concerning the nature of the software. Free Software licensing does not have enough to say about privacy and security, let alone how those things might be upheld in the real world. Yet such concerns do impact Free Software developers, meaning that some kinds of solutions do exist that might benefit a wider audience. Is it not time to deliver things like properly secure communications where people can trust the medium, verify who it is that sends them messages, ignore the time-wasters, opportunists and criminals, and instead focus on the interactions that are meaningful and important?

And is it not time that those with the knowledge and influence in the Free Software realm offered a more coherent path to achieving this, instead of all the many calls for people to “use encryption” only to be presented with a baffling array of options and a summary that combines “it’s complicated” with “you’re on your own”? To bring the users freedom from the kind of fear they experience through a lack of privacy and security? It requires the application of technical knowledge, certainly, but it also requires us to influence the way in which technology is being driven by forces in wider society.

Doing the Right Thing

Free Software, especially when labelled as “open source”, often has little to say about how the realm of technology should evolve. Indeed, Free Software has typically reacted to technological evolution, responding to the demands of various industries, but not making demands of its own. Of course, software in itself is generally but a mere instrument to achieve other things, and there are some who advocate a form of distinction between the specific ethics of software freedom and ethics applying elsewhere. For them, it seems to be acceptable to promote “open source” while undermining the rights and freedoms of others.

Our standards should be far higher than that! Although there is a logical argument to not combine other considerations with the clearly-stated four software freedoms, it should not stop us from complementing those freedoms with statements of our own values. Those who use or are subject to our software should be respected and their needs safeguarded. And we should seek to influence the development of technology to uphold our ideals.

Let us consider a mundane but useful example. The World Wide Web has had an enormous impact on society, providing people with access to information, knowledge, communication, services on a scale and with a convenience that would have been almost unimaginable only a few decades ago. In the beginning, it was slow (due to bandwidth limitations, even on academic networks), it was fairly primitive (compared to some kinds of desktop applications), and it lacked support for encryption and sophisticated interactions. More functionality was needed to make it more broadly useful for the kinds of things people wanted to see using it.

In the intervening years, a kind of “functional escalation” has turned it into something that is indeed powerful, with sophisticated document rendering and interaction mechanisms, perhaps achieving some of the ambitions of those who were there when the Web first gathered momentum. But it has caused a proliferation of needless complexity, as sites lazily call out to pull down megabytes of data to dress up significantly smaller amounts of content, as “trackers” and “analytics” are added to spy on the user, as absurd visual effects are employed (background videos, animated form fields), with the user’s computer now finding it difficult to bear the weight of all this bloat, and with that user struggling to minimise their exposure to privacy invasions and potential exploitation.

For many years it was a given that people would, even should, upgrade their computers regularly. It was almost phrased as a public duty by those who profited from driving technological progress in such a selfish fashion. As is frequently the case with technology, it is only after people have realised what can be made possible that they start to consider whether it should have been made possible at all. Do we really want to run something resembling an operating system in a Web browser? Is it likely that this will be efficient or secure? Can we trust the people who bring us these things, their visions, their competence?

The unquestioning proliferation of technology poses serious challenges to the well-being of individuals and the ecology of our planet. As people who have some control over the way technology is shaped and deployed, is it not our responsibility to make sure that its use is not damaging to its users, that it does not mandate destructive consumer practices, that people can enjoy the benefits – modest as they often are when the background videos and animated widgets are stripped away – without being under continuous threat of being left behind, isolated, excluded because their phone or computer is not this season’s model?

Strengthening Freedoms

In rather too many words, I have described some of the challenges that need to be confronted by Free Software advocates. We need to augment the four software freedoms with some freedoms or statements of our own. They might say that the software and the solutions we want to develop and to encourage should be…

• Sustainable to make: developers and their collaborators should be respected, their contributions fairly rewarded, their work acknowledged and sustained by those who use it
• Sustainable to choose and to use: adopters should have their role recognised, with their choices validated and rewarded through respectful maintenance and evolution of the software on which they have come to depend
• Encouraging of sustainable outcomes: the sustainability of the production and adoption of the software should encourage sustainability in other ways, promoting longevity, guarding against obsolescence, preventing needless and frivolous consumption, strengthening society and making it fairer and more resilient

It might be said that in order to have a fairer, kinder world there are no shortage of battles to be fought. With such sentiments, the discussion about what more might be done is usually brought to a swift conclusion. In this article, I hope to have made a case that what we can be doing is often not so different from what we are already doing.

And, of course, this brings us back to the awkward matter of why we, or the organisations we support, are not always so enthusiastic about these neglected areas of concern. Wouldn’t we all be better off by adding a dimension of sustainability to the freedoms we already recognise and enjoy?